


Take my Hand

by latinbias



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: A lot of this fic takes place at a fancy party, But it’s pretty clearly just their SMP characters, Dream Smp, Dream suffers but everything will be alright, Fluff, George is second-in-command, George-centric, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of dancing, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Election, Schlatt is a bastard, Some headcanon/AU elements, Supportive Sapnap, There is shipping, Touch Aversion, Touch-starved idiots in love, dreamnotfound, falling asleep together, king dream, you name it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27381505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latinbias/pseuds/latinbias
Summary: George’s best friend was hiding something. He saw it in the way Dream seemed to keep him at a distance, in the way Dream seemed to flinch away whenever he got too close. And George wanted to get too close. He didn’t quite understand it, how something too powerful to resist seemed to be pulling him towards Dream. And with a tyrant on the loose, the biggest event of the year to plan, and a sudden streak of odd behavior from Dream, George had hoped beyond anything else that it would all end well.He was wrong, of course.And really, he should have known better.After all, every time he had ever taken Dream’s hand, it had led to some kind of wonderful, incredible, disaster.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 119
Kudos: 692





	1. The Mask

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is centered around the characters and events of the Dream SMP with a bit of added headcanon/lore for an expanded setting. All relationships pretty clearly take place in the setting of the Dream SMP and between the characters real people play. If Dream or George ever express discomfort with fan works centered around their characters, this will be deleted. On a lighter note, I wrote this story while listening to music and, as a result, I have a few songs set aside to go with each chapter. Listening to them is entirely optional, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs for this chapter are It’s All So Incredibly Loud by Glass Animals and Four Walls (The Ballad of Perry Smith) by Bastille.

  
George knew Dream had a problem with touch. He had put this together from a long string of minor incidents in the time they’d known each other.

  
He had ignored the occasional flinches at first, dismissing them as one-offs. Maybe Dream just wasn’t expecting to be touched?

  
Either way, George didn’t go out of his way to test his suspicions. It seemed unnecessary, and a breach of privacy if Dream was, in fact, uncomfortable.

  
Of course, this thought had only occurred to him after maybe the fifth or sixth instance of Dream reacting oddly to simple contact.

  
If they were sitting together and George moved closer to look at something over Dream’s shoulder, Dream would move the other way.

  
If he reached for Dream’s arm or shoulder, Dream would always seem to freeze, if only for a split second. George always thought he had been misreading it, or exaggerating the motion in his head. However, the repetition made his suspicions a bit harder to dismiss.

  
After all, it wasn’t just George.

  
If someone got a bit too close to Dream while they were walking through the kingdom, or if his hand brushed a stranger’s in the crowded markets, Dream would pull himself away in an instant.

  
In fact, it was one of these instances with a stranger that had started George’s closer observation of Dream in the first place.

  
The two of them had been on a rare morning trip to a local bakery. Through pure bad timing, they had picked a day of the festival that came through once a season. Both Dream and George had been busy the days before, and they had forgotten it hadn’t happened yet.

  
As a result, they had been caught in the wave of people moving down the narrow road they had chosen for their walk that morning.

  
When he and Dream had first encountered the crowd flowing down the street they needed to take, Dream had stopped suddenly. It took a call from George to break him away from his thoughts, and he had taken slow, careful, steps forward into the busy street.

  
While they walked, Dream had seemed oddly tense. It reminded George of a pose he had seen frequently in manhunts and in the midst of battle. Prepared for disaster, or at the very least, a fight.

  
George quickly found out what he was preparing for.

  
They were about to turn off onto the even narrower side street where the bakery stood when loud voices began to echo down the streets behind the two of them.

  
As they grew louder, Dream took a breath that seemed almost unsteady.

  
And then, a shriek, and a blur of motion.

  
George instinctively drew back, and when he did he saw that the crowd had split apart, moving just as he had at the sudden noise.

  
A girl clung to Dream, laughing and cursing out one of her friends standing on the sidelines.

  
Dream’s face was covered by his usual mask, but George had known him for years. At times, he could read Dream’s movements the same way Dream read George’s face.

  
Dream’s arms were braced between himself and the girl. He hadn’t made an effort to move away like the rest of the crowd, and it certainly wasn’t an issue of reflexes. George had seen Dream pull off hundreds of close moves that would be impossible without the lightning fast response time and incredible intuition he possessed. In fact, it was those traits in particular that had made him so feared and respected across the world’s kingdoms.

  
George could hardly explain it, how Dream moved like a dancer on the battlefield. Every fight was elegantly choreographed, and every movement as confident and as practiced as if he’d run through the routine a thousand times before.

  
Sometimes it even seemed like Dream could see the future, dodging swords before they’d even been drawn. But this time, Dream had frozen. And he’d barely caught the girl in time.

  
And George saw the tension in his shoulders, and the quick rise and fall of his chest.

  
He saw the way it took Dream a second too long to unfreeze and push the girl back onto her feet.

  
He saw the way Dream’s hands were shaking.

  
That was the moment that George had first suspected something else behind Dream’s occasional odd behavior. He wouldn’t push the issue, but he’d keep a close eye on his best friend. After all, there did seem to be something Dream wasn’t telling him.

  
***

  
A few weeks later, the two of them, along with Sapnap and Bad, had just returned from an unexpected ambush on their way back from the neighboring kingdom. Bandits were rare, but bandits who dared to attack the king’s caravan were rarer.

  
As expected, the ambush hardly proved a threat to the group responsible for winning most of the nation’s wars. However, in the initial attack, Dream had taken an arrow to the shoulder.

  
Bad had insisted that it be treated, and had reached for his arm. Dream had flinched away, a motion that George had come to expect.

  
Dream continued to resist under the idea that he’d bandage his own wound. Unsurprisingly, the self-proclaimed team medic wasn’t moved by Dream’s words.

  
It was only when George joined in that Dream had finally relented, and only if George was the one to treat his arm. All of them had had basic training for this, of course, but the annoyance was clear on Bad’s face.

  
While George was concerned for Dream, he couldn’t quiet the small part of him that was oddly happy that Dream would rather George touch him than anyone else. After all, George thought he had figured out that Dream’s aversion (if it existed) wasn’t just with him. It wasn’t just with him, right?

  
And the opposite idea, that it existed to some degree with others that it didn’t with him, made George a bit happier than he’d care to admit.

  
Regardless of his suspicions, he internally vowed to be careful just in case he made Dream uncomfortable. Besides, at that moment, the two of them were alone in the room, so any extra caution on his part wouldn’t be suspicious.

  
“Dream, can you...”  


George motioned to his hoodie, which Dream took off, careful not to disturb his mask. He pulled it gingerly over his injured arm, but he still wasn’t careful enough. He dropped his sweatshirt on the side of the bed they were sitting on and winced visibly enough that George’s hands flew up on their own to steady Dream.

  
He didn’t think. He was just concerned, and that feeling was strong enough to override any thoughts of Dream’s reaction. He regretted it instantly.

  
Dream jerked away from him almost violently. He winced again at the motion, his breathing fast and shallow. Then, with almost practiced effort, Dream had forced his lungs back into step, taking in deep breaths and straightening his spine.

  
The two of them stayed in silence for maybe half a minute as Dream collected himself. They both seemed too stunned to speak, George at Dream’s reaction and Dream at the fact that he had had it in the first place.

  
And so, when neither of them had acknowledged it after another few seconds, George made a decision. He was concerned, but he would let it be, because Dream was still bleeding from his shoulder.

  
“Can you roll up your sleeve?”

  
Dream took a second to respond, and even when he did, he didn’t speak. Instead, he nodded quickly, taking another deep breath.

  
Dream was a bit more careful this time and George took a second to look at him.

  
Dream almost always had his hoodie on. In fact, George couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Dream without it. He wore a soft, close-fitting white t-shirt underneath. He was tense, just like before.

  
George suspected that he sometimes forgot Dream was human. The hoodie disguised his shape, making him a formless enigma, made more of movement than of mass. But now, as George looked at him, he seemed more real. The lean muscles responsible for his smooth movement and effortless strength were clearly visible. He had broad shoulders, and a narrow waist that had always been hidden by his usual clothing.

  
His best friend was handsome and always had been. He had always looked like this, just a bit more formless. So why couldn’t George look away?

  
George mentally shook his head. This really was not the time.

  
He distracted himself with Dream’s injury, moving towards Dream’s shoulder slowly and carefully. George still didn’t touch him, just cleaned the wound with a cloth Bad had handed him on his way out.

  
George knew it must be painful, but Dream almost seemed to... relax?

  
The injury wasn’t deep enough or messy enough to require stitches, and George decided bandaging it would probably be enough. It was a fairly lucky hit from Dream’s perspective. Then again, what was new? As Dream often said, luck was a mask worn by intuition. Dream could have chosen to move at just the right time to avoid a more serious injury.

  
George pulled out a roll of bandages. There really wasn’t any way to do this without holding onto Dream.

  
“Hey, I’m just going to hold this down for a second. Actually... here-“

  
George held the end to Dream’s shoulder, painfully aware of how quickly Dream had tensed up again at the simple contact over the bandage.

  
“Can you hold this?”

  
George motioned to the place he was holding the bandage and Dream obliged just as quickly as last time. He was grateful, and George saw it in the way his posture relaxed ever so slightly and the way he let out a breath, almost too quiet to hear.

  
George secured the bandage so it wouldn’t move and stopped for a second to think. Wrapping an arm in bandages with two hands wasn’t difficult, but he would ordinarily need to secure the wrapping as he went. The whole process was a bit contact-heavy, now that he thought about it.

  
“Dream, can you... sort of hold this down as I go?”

  
Again, Dream nodded, and some tension seemed to drop from his shoulders. The two of them moved together to cover the wound, George managing to not touch him at all with the exception of a split second at the end to once again secure the wrapping.

  
The whole ordeal, while methodical, felt oddly intimate. George was sure he wouldn’t appreciate Bad or Sapnap walking back in. He wasn’t sure exactly why.

  
George had pulled away quickly, but the two of them stayed in their slightly odd position, close, but not quite touching.

  
Heat seemed to radiate off of Dream, and George didn’t particularly want to move. Neither did Dream, it seemed.

  
That is, until the moment ended. Dream had pulled away from him, then, and offered a quick “Thank you,” slipping out of the room in that way he did where George was never quite sure if he had ever been there at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far! This fic is completely written already. I’m doing some touching up on the later chapters, but I will upload at least once every two days. It will be six chapters in total, so the entire thing will be published within two weeks. More general notes: the bandage scene is inspired by a similar moment from Crooked Kingdom (Leigh Bardugo). Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! I’d love to hear your thoughts.


	2. Spring Hollows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George thought he understood. He thought he knew why Dream acted the way he did, why he kept himself so far away from the person who knew him best in the world. Still, Dream seemed to drift closer with each passing day, as if he couldn’t help himself. And then, the gap between them had closed completely. And it was wonderful. And it was a disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs for this chapter are: Hometown by twenty one pilots, Heat Waves by Glass Animals, and Trees by twenty one pilots.

  
In the days following the ambush, George had been worried that Dream would avoid him. He did, for maybe a day or two, but they fell back into their usual rhythm soon enough. After all, how could George keep his distance when having Dream by his side felt as natural as breathing? And the feeling appeared to be mutual. Dream couldn’t seem to keep his distance, either. In fact, he began to keep a bit closer to George than before.

  
The first instance of this that George could recall was about a week after the attack, when the two of them had been sitting at the castle’s long table together. Ordinarily, they would be doing different things and George might move a bit closer out of curiosity. His best friend always seemed to be poring over some elaborate plans for the kingdom or a new military strategy devised by General Sapnap. Dream was brilliant, and George was fascinated. And so, George would ordinarily lean over his shoulder once in a while for a better look. And ordinarily, like clockwork, Dream would move away.

  
And so, on that day after the ambush, George kept his distance. And Dream moved closer instead.

  
Again, a soft heat seemed to accompany Dream wherever he went, and George shivered at the warmth blooming up his side.

  
They weren’t quite touching, just like before, but they were close.

  
And, just like before, they stayed that way for a bit, neither wanting to move.

  
This became fairly regular for the two of them.

  
Dream would be sitting on a park bench or one of the castle’s sofas and George would find some excuse to sit beside him.

  
George would be on his daily stroll through the castle gardens and Dream would find some excuse to join him. Soon enough, George was spending at least half an hour each day with Dream in the gardens, walking side-by-side.

  
George supposed this wasn’t entirely unusual for the two of them. Still, Dream had never seemed to make quite as much of an effort to be close to George as he had in recent days. And George couldn’t get enough.

  
If Dream hadn’t been one hundred percent human (and honestly, George still doubted that some days), George would have thought that Dream carried some kind of force field around him.

  
Because, George’s nerves lit up whenever he got too close to Dream. If someone had told him Dream really did give off sparks and light, George might have believed them.

  
Still, George knew the warmth Dream carried around him wasn’t just in his head. Right?

  
A few days later, the two of them were sitting on a sofa in George’s room. He was reading a book, and Dream was looking over the castle’s blueprints for the Taiga Ball in a few weeks.

  
The event preparations were running alongside a very important military campaign against a neighboring kingdom. The new democracy had turned tyrannical, and Dream had been planning a mission to infiltrate it for weeks. He had been up late the last few nights trying to finish the plans before the preparations for the ball took over. It had taken its toll on Dream, too.

  
Dream always seemed to move like he was meant to float instead of walk. Touching the ground was optional, and only a means to an end. The occasional clumsy step was enough to tell George that Dream might not have slept more than a few hours the night before, if at all.

  
They were sitting in their usual arrangement, George with his book, and Dream with his plans and his journal, separated by only a few inches.

  
George, as always, fought against the urge to close the distance and sit right next to him. Still, he held himself back. They had built this comfortable presence together, with clear boundaries.

  
That is, until today.

  
George remembered the exact moment when Dream had sighed and all but collapsed against him, his head landing on George’s shoulder.

  
George had startled when it happened, more out of surprise than anything else. It took him far too long to collect himself with Dream pressed up against his side, and even longer to remember exactly how little sleep Dream had been getting in the last few days.

  
Dream wasn’t asleep, or at least George didn’t think he was. Dream had a tendency, if left unchecked, to work himself to exhaustion.

  
Ordinarily, George, Bad, or even Sapnap would step in if Dream was overworking himself. However, Sapnap had been working alongside Dream on the intelligence plans and Bad and George had already started in on the preparations for the Taiga Ball.

  
The Ball couldn’t be ignored in favor of the military plans, either. It was an incredibly important diplomatic event, perhaps the most important of each year. And George was in charge of it. All of it.

  
And so, Dream had taken it upon himself to finish the plans by any means necessary, even at the expense of his own health and sanity.

  
George strongly suspected that Dream had pushed himself well past his limits this time, and, while conscious, likely had no energy to move.

  
George sighed. Again, forgetting their unique arrangement, George had reached out to run his fingers through Dream’s hair, almost absentmindedly. Dream didn’t flinch, if only because he lacked the energy.

  
In fact, Dream had leaned into his touch.

  
This alone had George stunned into silence.

  
Maybe it was because Dream had initiated it? He did seem to have an easier time touching people than being touched. Still, Dream had never expressed that kind of pure comfort with contact before.

  
George kept up the motion, and soon enough he was sure that Dream was truly asleep.

  
Now whether it was because George lacked energy as well, or because of the soft heat radiating into his side, or because of the sparks across his skin, George couldn’t quite bring himself to move. In fact, he wouldn’t admit it, but he might have fallen asleep right alongside Dream that day in his room.

  
***

  
Dream didn’t avoid him this time. In fact, he and George were almost inseparable in the following days. The few-inches rule was not entirely forgotten, but more often than not Dream reached across the divide. It was not uncommon to see the king and his chief advisor with their hands laced together in the castle gardens or in the city streets.  
  


It was wonderful.

  
George could not get enough of the sparks flooding his senses. He couldn’t get enough of the warmth wherever they touched. He couldn’t get enough of the pure light Dream seemed to radiate, so bright and infectious that George was sure he was shining, too.

  
He couldn’t get enough of Dream.

  
That day, he and Dream were on their way to Bad’s chamber in the castle, at the healer’s insistence. After all their seemingly endless work in the last week or so, the two of them had jumped at the chance to take a break and let Bad showcase what he had been putting his time into.

  
Bad was helping George with the Taiga Ball. Ordinarily, he would be working with the military, but Bad had a passion for some very specific parts of George’s job. And George did need all the help he could get, after all.

  
Today, Bad was showing Dream and George the outfits that he had specially designed for them to wear at the Ball. It was easy to overlook a detail like that in the context of the intelligence plans and the more elaborate moving parts of the Ball, but impressions could not be more important in the context of diplomacy. Or so Bad said, anyway.

  
When they arrived, Dream opened the door to find a large, empty, chamber. Upon following the echoing of voices, they came upon a circular dressing room. As they approached, Bad flung open the door and just as quickly flung it back closed with a shout upon seeing Dream and George.

  
George had just enough time to see a sliver of a gray cloak and a flash of red ink winding around Sapnap, who was facing the other direction.

  
Bad opened the door with a bit more caution the second time, stepping out of the room with a frown.

  
“You muffins! Impressions should wait until the ball. I’m the only one who gets to see all three of you before then.”

  
Bad crossed his arms indignantly, the spade-shaped end of his tail swaying back and forth like a cat’s.

  
“Should we go wait outside?” George asked.

  
“No! Nuh-nuh-nuh-no.”

  
Bad hurriedly ushered them towards a second large circular room in the opposite corner of the chamber.

  
“Actually, George, maybe do just wait here.”

  
Bad herded Dream into the room, looking him up and down. When he reached out towards Dream’s shoulders, Dream tensed. It occurred to George that it had been a long time since he had seen Dream do that.

  
And then, Bad had closed the door, and some odd kind of nerves had started up in George’s chest. Was he... worried for Dream?

  
His thoughts were interrupted by the soft click of a door as Sapnap left the room in his normal outfit. After a few minutes had passed, Bad had once again thrown open the door, giving George nothing more than a flash of silver. He had then urged George towards the room that Sapnap had come from and had prompted him to try on the outfit he designed.

  
It was beautiful. George had a long deep blue coat that emphasized his shoulders and his waist at once, flaring out by his legs. George wasn’t tall by any measure, but the dramatic shape of the coat and the slim black leggings made his legs appear quite long. Bad had given the white jacket underneath golden buttons and a high collar.

  
George had never really gotten used to feeling like he was on a runway at the Taiga Ball. Still, it was the good kind of odd feeling.

  
And it was that same odd feeling that had led his train of thought back to Dream.

  
Bad had been running his hands across George’s shoulders and back quite a bit, trying to get a feel for how the clothes fit him. He doubted Bad would let up at all on the king, whose clothes mattered most of all. He couldn’t help but wonder if Dream was okay.

  
George thanked Bad for his hard work and changed back into his normal clothes. Bad had returned to Dream’s changing room for just a second before Dream exited.

  
It was barely noticeable, but George had known Dream for so long that it was second nature. Dream was shaking. And then, the second Bad was out of view, the facade broke and Dream had all but sprinted out of Bad’s chamber.

  
George followed him.

  
Dream didn’t seem to react to George’s change in direction. George wasn’t sure Dream had even noticed.

  
He knew where Dream was going almost immediately. Dream moved out through the building’s double doors almost too quickly for George to see and took a sharp turn into the gardens, planting a foot on a nearby tree and using the height and momentum to leap gracefully over the narrow stream that divided the gardens in half. George followed him, not with the effortless grace the king possessed, but with practiced effort. He had spent many afternoons here with Dream, and after long enough Dream had taught him how to copy his elegant path up into his secret hiding spot.

  
Dream’s routine, common enough to be second nature, took him up a sequence of oddly placed stones and over an overgrown wall. The two of them danced across branches and zigzagged across the creek until they reached a quiet spring.

  
George was barely able to keep up with him. Ordinarily, they more or less kept pace with each other on their way up. This led George to the realization that Dream had never been moving at his full speed when they were together.

  
Right now, with Dream going as fast as he was, George was always just far enough behind him to be out of Dream’s sight, following Dream through muscle memory alone. If Dream was moving as quickly as he was when he was alone, that meant he didn’t know he was being followed. Or he didn’t care. Either one was worrying, as Dream was known to pick up on even the smallest tells of another person’s presence.

  
Dream sank down onto the grass and leaned against the side of the deep cliff that gave the spot its privacy. Dream ran his hand through his hair. He was still shaking.

  
George shouldn’t have been there. He had no right. It didn’t matter that Dream was hurting, somehow. George didn’t know how to help him, and he shouldn’t have even followed Dream in the first place. He was a second from turning around to leave when Dream turned and looked straight at him.

  
George froze.

  
It was a split second, but George still read him perfectly.

  
Dream had suspected he was there. He hadn’t cared. He didn’t want George to leave.

  
And so, George obliged, moving cautiously into the clearing.

  
Dream came into full view, and when he did, George moved even more cautiously than before.

  
Dream seemed to be struggling to control his breathing, and his hands were shaking even more than the rest of his body. One hand was planted firmly in the grass, as if it was anchoring him to the place he so often came to for peace and quiet. The other was pressed to his temple, his fingers wound into his hair.

  
“George-“

  
His name was strained, and quiet.

  
And George moved to his side as quickly as he could while making sure Dream knew he wouldn’t touch him.

  
“Dream-“

  
And George realized he wasn’t quite sure what to say. In the end, it hadn’t mattered.

  
It hadn’t mattered, because Dream had turned to him and pulled him into a tight hug, holding on for dear life.

  
George wasn’t expecting that. At all.

  
George’s hands hovered over Dream’s shoulders. Would that make things worse? Or better? George wasn’t sure anymore.

  
Dream seemed to pull him closer, and he tucked his face into George’s neck. And maybe it was because Dream’s breath on the place where his neck met his shoulder made it hard to think straight. Maybe it was because having Dream pressed up against him like this lit up senses George never knew he had. Whatever the reason, he had taken the risk.

  
He wrapped his arms around Dream, pulling him in for a proper hug. Dream had tensed for just a second.

  
And then, as their new routine went, Dream melted into him. George held him tighter as his shaking slowed and eventually ceased altogether.

  
George didn’t let him go until his breathing steadied, too.

  
Still, George was the first to speak.

  
“Couldn’t you.. you know. Talk to Bad? He’d understand.”

  
Dream sighed.

  
“I-I was going to. But I was so busy, and it just- it got away from me, and it was too late to do anything, and...”

  
Dream shook his head, pressing his palm to the front of his mask.

  
It had taken George a second to realize that Dream was confirming his suspicions. It had apparently taken Dream a second to realize this as well, as he straightened and went silent. It was oddly regal, and distant. He was closing himself off. An odd pain started in George’s chest.

  
“It’s... alright, you know.”

  
Dream stayed silent.

  
“It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone. And, honestly, it’s not like it’s anything to be ashamed of.”

  
Dream winced at that, the change in his expression just large enough for George to catch.

  
“I didn’t mean it like that.”

  
George sighed.

  
“Listen, I’m your friend. I want to help you and make sure you’re comfortable. Alright?”

  
George stretched out his arm to hover around Dream’s shoulders.

  
“Can I?”

  
Dream was still frozen for a second before responding.  
  


“Yeah.”

  
George settled his arm across Dream’s shoulders.

  
And Dream had leaned into him and rolled his head back onto George’s arm, sighing.

  
George shook his head with a smile. Dream mystified him. He really did.

  
He decided to test it a bit further, bringing his other hand up to run his fingers through Dream’s long, loose, bangs, just as he had that day when Dream had fallen asleep in his room.

  
Dream sighed again and leaned up into his hand slightly. And then, slowly, a lazy, contented, beautiful smile spread across Dream’s face. And God, George thought he was gorgeous before. His mask was tipped back slightly, and his freckles stood out in the soft sunlight of the spring hollow.

  
And, like always, George was helpless to stop the heat up his neck and the restlessness of his heartbeat. He also couldn’t seem to help the warmth spreading throughout his body and the sparks dancing over his skin.

  
In fact, it was at that exact moment that George realized he was completely, utterly, hopeless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for following along so far! Dream gets a break soon, I promise. More fluff incoming in the next few chapters. My upload schedule still stands, with the next update coming out tomorrow or the day after. Some general notes: my use of the song Heat Waves (Glass Animals) as one of the songs for this chapter is inspired by its use in another Dreamnotfound fic on ao3 (Heat Waves by tbhyourelame) which I would highly recommend.
> 
> Edit: This note was written when heat waves was on what might have been its third chapter? I’m glad it became so popular, slightly afraid for the author, and still very much a fan of the fic.


	3. Thrones and Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the day of the Ball grew closer, George’s work seemed to pull him farther away from Dream with each passing day. Still, the electric current drawing him towards Dream was as stubborn and as impossibly strong as it had always been. George knew it was only a matter of time before the cord connecting them grew taut enough to snap. George just didn’t know when it would happen, or how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs for this chapter are Fast Talk by Dawn Golden & Houses and Send Them Off! by Bastille.

  
He and Dream had grown even closer in the days leading up to the Taiga Ball. Predictably, George grew busier each passing day, his time consumed with planning and arranging and directing... the list seemed to stretch on a bit farther each time he looked at it. Dream had now switched almost entirely to diplomatic preparations, tallying up the especially important attendees and the goals he hoped to reach with each one over the course of the Ball.

Still, Dream and George kept close to each other as they worked, almost always in the same room or even the same few feet. It was not at all uncommon for Dream to simply enter George’s room in the morning to begin work, or vice versa. In fact, it happened frequently enough that George had eventually just moved his desk into Dream’s room so they could work alongside each other more easily.

As the day of the Ball approached, George’s nights began to grow later and later, the stars and the king keeping him company as his work kept him up well into the night. Dream had stayed with him, just the same as he had through George’s early mornings and endless days that dragged from dawn to dusk. Dream always had something to work on, and he kept his lamp lit each night until he could manage to convince George to stumble back to his room and pass out on his bed.

One night in particular stood out to George. It was the day before the Ball’s Eve. On the Eve of the Ball, Bad had mandated that every attendee in the kingdom have a work curfew: that is, they could work no later than the sunset that evening in order to be fully rested for the event the following day. Therefore, George’s latest night was set to be the night before that.

That evening, George had been writing out his list of errands for the following day. Overseeing the final setup of the ballroom, contacting musicians, preparing the castle kitchen... and George still hadn’t finished much of his task list for the current day . 

  
George made his hardest effort that night to convince Dream to sleep before George’s night was over. Dream refused, like always. It wasn’t entirely fair on George’s part. Dream did in fact have important work to finish before the Ball, and his task list was no more forgiving than George’s. 

  
Besides, getting Dream to prioritize anything over his work was an uphill battle, and they both knew it. Or so George thought, anyway.

  
George knew it was petty, but in his opinion, it really wasn’t fair. Neither of them could do completely without sleep, but Dream was undoubtedly much more used to the long hours and late nights than George. Dream could stay up alongside him, but George would always have it worse. 

  
And that night, George was suffering a bit more than he’d care to admit. The constant lack of sleep was starting to affect him and his checklist didn’t seem to get any shorter as he worked. 

  
Dream wasn’t close to finishing either, but George knew the set of his mouth and the angle of his body too well. Dream was genuinely concerned for George’s wellbeing, and George had caught Dream checking up on him more than once over the course of the evening. 

  
And so, when it was well past midnight and they still had a few hours of work set out for them, Dream had gone over to his bed and dropped down onto it. George really should have known it was a setup when Dream used the word “break.” Maybe he was just too tired to care. Either way, he had collapsed beside Dream on the bed without protest. 

  
And maybe it was when Dream had told him he deserved to rest. Maybe it was when Dream had reached out to run his hand across George’s back, or when George had flung an arm across Dream’s chest in return. Still, his chief suspicion was on the moment when they both seemed to decide at once that George should be maneuvered to lie on top of Dream, his head against Dream’s chest and Dream’s slow heartbeat in his ears.

  
And it was only the next morning, when George had woken up tangled in Dream’s arms, that he realized Dream hadn’t finished his work either. Dream had thought George’s wellbeing was more important, and he had come up with a stupid, brilliant, plan to get George to sleep. And then George realized that he wanted to wake up like this every day for the rest of his life.

***

The Eve of the Ball, Dream seemed particularly determined to hold George to the sunset rule. It didn’t matter that they rarely crossed paths, their usual working arrangement breaking down as George’s tasks required him to run from the castle to the outer kingdom and back, over and over. George suspected that the only reason he ever ran into Dream was that George had to be absolutely everywhere on the Eve of the Ball. And, if Dream was always somewhere, they would end up in the same place eventually. 

  
The sunset rule was a helpful reminder, George had to admit. Still, even with the early curfew, the Eve of the Ball was always a difficult and exhausting day for him, and this year was no exception.

  
He still spent his time with Dream when he could, working alongside him at his usual desk in Dream’s room. As always, Dream stayed with him whenever he had the opportunity, taking down more diplomatic notes in his journal as George, slowly but steadily, made progress on his endless checklist. Still, it was rare that George’s work allowed him the time to make the trip up to Dream’s room, and so the instances were few and far between.

  
That is, until it was almost sunset.

  
George had almost been looking forward to this moment, despite the fact that this particular task resembled all the others on his checklist.

  
And yet, one detail made all the difference.

  
He was meeting the musicians that were going to play at the second half of the Ball, and Dream had to be there.

  
It was more or less a formality, as the group had received their invitation over a month ago. George was there to finalize the contract and to talk about specifics. Dream was there to formally confirm it and to wish them well.

  
And so, they sat together in the throne room to wait. George was sitting at his desk, which he had moved from Dream’s room along with a quill, the contract, and a page of scribbled notes.

  
Dream, of course, was on the throne, the picture of casual, regal, elegance.

  
One of Dream’s legs was crossed over his lap, his ankle resting on the opposite knee. He had an arm propped behind his head, and he wore a sharp-toothed smile and a slender crown studded with his signature carved emeralds. 

  
Dream’s sword, a long and lethal blade, rested against the throne’s arm, more for decoration than anything else. Still, George had no doubt that Dream could draw it for a sword fight at a moment’s notice. After all, with the throne and crown, Dream’s aura of power and strength seemed even stronger than usual. He’d seemed almost immortal, like he’d take a blade through the chest without blinking. From the way he fought, George sometimes wondered if it was true.

  
And then, the band had arrived.

  
The meeting went smoothly, for the most part. In fact, it was a bit shorter than George had expected, the polite exchanges brief and the discussions concise and uneventful.

  
The last order of business was complete.

  
For him, at least.

  
As if to remind him, Dream retrieved his journal from its hiding place beneath the throne and opened it.

  
“George, you might want to take a look at this before tomorrow.”

  
“What is it?”

  
“I marked up the guest list. They’re sorted by diplomatic priority and they all have descriptions.”

  
George blinked.

  
Ordinarily, George would make something like that himself. After all, the king’s notes were strictly confidential. And, with all of Dream’s study, he would have no need for a list like that.

  
Dream had made it for him.

  
Dream had taken time out of his schedule, every bit as busy as George’s, to make George’s life just a little bit easier.

  
And so, George couldn’t quite help the wonder in his tone when he spoke.

  
“Dream, thank you.” 

  
And Dream’s confident smile from the meeting had softened into something more sincere.

  
“It was the least I could do.”

  
Dream had moved to stand up and bring it to him, but George was already out of his chair, walking around the throne to look at the journal over Dream’s shoulder.

  
The position wasn’t the most comfortable, and Dream noticed.

  
And, in a single elegant motion, Dream had swiveled his body, moving his legs up and over one side of the throne, folding them gracefully over one of the throne’s arms.

  
And Dream had tilted his head back against the throne’s opposite arm, his collarbones catching the natural light. And something about his pose, all angles and grace, made it difficult to fight the flush that threatened to creep up George’s neck. 

  
Dream was draped sideways across his throne almost suggestively, pale neck exposed to the ceiling and long, thin, legs folded elegantly over the throne’s arm.

  
And, before George could blame his flush on something else, anything else, Dream had laid a hand on the vacant front of the throne.

  
George understood.

  
He didn’t know why Dream offered. He didn’t know why Dream had broken an unspoken rule by even asking. Still, George had accepted.

  
George slid onto the throne, copying Dream’s pose with his legs hooked over one of the throne’s arms.

  
He was pressed directly up against Dream’s side, and Dream propped an elbow on George’s chest to raise the journal between them.

  
And George could barely think, but he followed along as best he could.

  
In the end, sunset had caught them both by surprise, as the chiming of the kingdom’s bell tower shook them from their spell.

  
And George still hadn’t forgotten it, how Dream had practically leaped from the throne, energy coming off of him in waves. George hadn’t forgotten how Dream had offered him his hand that night, and how George had taken it in a second. And he couldn’t quite explain it, how the touch had sent sparks through his body until he and Dream were humming with the same electricity.

  
They were headed to Dream’s room. George knew the route well. He didn’t know why they were headed there, however, until Dream opened the door.

  
Deep, rich, colors flooded the room from the large glass window overlooking Dream’s bed.

  
Pink and orange clouds wove around the landscape’s dark mountains, fading to a starry indigo at the window’s edges.

  
George had only seen one other thing so beautiful.

  
And Dream led him to the bed and they sat down together, leaning against each other as they watched the colors swirl and change, the sun sinking below the horizon and the hills gaining new halos of stars.

  
Dream was captivated, his expression soft with wonder and something almost resembling relief. Dream looked like he was home. And it was then that George knew that Dream had spent many nights gazing out at the stars, if only from the way the deep blue mountains and sparkling planets seemed as much of a familiar comfort to Dream as the bed he slept in.

  
Dream’s freckles shone in the silver starlight, the warm, bright, colors of the fading sunset lighting up his skin as he gazed out the window.

  
And George was captivated, too.

  
They stayed there for a while, watching the stars multiply and the Milky Way grow crisp and clear against the indigo sky. A thin crescent moon cast a soft light on the two of them at the window.

  
George had gone out on his own to see the stars before. He’d laid on a hill and gazed out into the universe, feeling a bit small and unimportant by the end. With all the stars in the sky, the endless galaxies and ethereal planets, how could the universe need him?

  
But stargazing with Dream was different. Dream was a star in his own right, shaping the lives around him and carving out a special place in the universe for himself. And, when George looked at the stars with Dream, he saw a universe he fit into. A universe they fit into. He’d carve out a place right alongside Dream, and they could be their own stars on planet Earth.

  
They were both exhausted, George knew. At some point, he had rested his head on Dream’s shoulder, eyes tired but not quite closed. And at some point, Dream had simply laid down, and George was too tired to stay upright by himself. And George had given in. 

  
“Are you just trying to get me to sleep again?”

  
Dream’s expression was soft with exhaustion, and oddly unguarded.

  
“Maybe.”

  
And George had dropped to the bed without protest, rolling perhaps a bit closer to Dream than was strictly necessary.

  
“Alright. Fine, if that’s what you want.”

  
And it sounded like a playful challenge, a tease so familiar to the two of them. A joke.

  
It wasn’t. 

  
And somehow, Dream knew. 

  
And so, Dream had responded first and foremost by wrapping his arms around George and pulling him close to his chest. 

  
And his voice was a soft whisper close to George’s ear, full of something so gentle and so bright that the next day was all but forgotten.

  
“I knew you’d come around eventually.”

  
And George had suspected they were both looking for an excuse to fall asleep in each other’s arms again, since neither of them made an effort to pull apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for posting late. This chapter was originally a lot shorter, and I’ve been adding to it ever since it was first written (this round of edits was no exception). Honestly, it’s close to my heart and I haven’t really been able to help myself. Thank you all for reading so far! Next up: the Taiga Ball! The story gets a bit less segmented in the second half, so I divided it into three chapters more out of necessity than anything else. If you can’t tell, drama and shenanigans at fancy parties are my absolute favorite. I’d love to hear any comments with your thoughts!


	4. Legends Come True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George was walking on a tightrope. Every minute, he fought to keep his balance. The political situation was more urgent than ever before, with the disaster in the neighboring kingdom requiring Dream to monitor his every action. Failure wasn’t an option. And he and Dream had their own balance, more urgent than ever before, drifting beyond friendship but never quite far enough to be something more. George could hardly keep it all straight in his head, and he knew he would lose his balance eventually. It was only a matter of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs for this chapter are Dreaming by Smallpools, King of the Clouds by Panic! At the Disco and Warmth by Bastille.

  
George woke up feeling like he’d had the best sleep of his life. 

  
Sunlight streamed in through the sunset window, and George had woken up before Dream. He turned in Dream’s arms, doing his best not to wake the sleeping king.

  
And God, George must have forgotten how beautiful he was.

  
Dream was gorgeous on the throne the night before, in a way that made something deep inside George start to heat. He was ethereal under the stars at the window, in a way that made George want to follow him to the ends of the earth. But that morning, Dream was beautiful, real and human in a way that slowly and gently stole the breath from his lungs.

  
Dream’s freckles seemed to glow in the sunlight, his lips slightly parted and his hair curly and fluffy from his pillow. And he was so, so, warm. Dream could have been the morning sun personified, golden hair and golden skin in the sunlight, radiating light and warmth. George shivered. Dream’s soft heat was spreading through him from every place they touched, and he was melting. He could hardly think, tangled up with Dream like this, and George couldn’t do anything but pull Dream closer. 

  
And then George had remembered that Dream’s beauty at that moment was for him alone. George was the only person in the world who had the chance to see Dream like this, unguarded and entirely at peace. He was the only one who had the chance to sleep beside Dream, and to wake up with their limbs intertwined in the morning light. And it felt personal enough, intimate enough, that it brought a flush to George’s face. 

  
For all his easy confidence, Dream was not a particularly unguarded person. He kept anything especially personal close to his chest, and chose to keep much of himself hidden away from the world, and not just in a literal sense. Still, on that morning, the walls Dream kept around himself were nowhere to be seen.

  
He looked... happy. Content, in a way he never seemed to be when he was awake.

  
George smiled to himself. He was sure it was goofy and maybe just the tiniest bit lovesick, but he couldn’t help himself. 

  
He was, after all. Lovesick. 

  
To George’s dismay, the two of them had to split up for almost the entirety of the day of the Ball. George knew it made sense. He knew they had very different responsibilities, and that it would naturally draw them apart for most of the day. Still, George knew that when his work was completed, he would have the Taiga Ball to spend at Dream’s side. 

  
Bad had insisted it was better they stay apart before the Ball, saying something about a bride and groom on their wedding day. George had rolled his eyes, but something in Bad’s voice was just serious enough that he complied. He kept his distance from Dream during the day as best he could, giving last-minute orders and doing his best to be everywhere at once. Dream, meanwhile, would be reviewing his plans for diplomacy. 

  
George sighed. 

  
At 6:00, the chaos would end and he could enjoy himself with the three people most important to him in the world. After all, an invitation to the Taiga Ball was highly valued, and rightfully so. It was, at its base, an elegant winter party, and one full of royals, officials, and local nobles, with music and cuisine widely considered to be the best in the area. Few people had the chance to attend the Ball, and even fewer had all their closest friends on the guest list. 

  
Still, for all the Ball’s glamour, the event’s deeper purpose lay just beneath its gilded exterior. 

  
Dream’s entire realm of political motivations and intricate interactions was invisible to most of the aristocrats milling through the decorated halls. 

  
George’s work, on the other hand, was very visible, and he was sure to be fielding comments about it all through the night. Still, his work finished more or less the moment the actual event started. Dream’s work, on the other hand, never stopped for a moment after the chime announcing his opening address. Every casual conversation, every passing comment was part of the elaborate web of politics running beneath the entire event. 

  
Still, George knew Dream wouldn’t pass up the chance to spend more time with his closest friends. After all, the event wouldn’t be possible without all four of them working their hardest in the month leading up to the Ball. It had kept them all apart from each other, just as it had with him and Dream. The night of the Ball was their reward, in more ways than one. 

  
George strolled over to the window facing the castle gates. As expected, the guards were just starting to let the first carriages through. George promptly turned around and left to go change. 

  
The long blue cloak fit him even better than it had that first day in Bad’s chamber. The castle’s insignia, a swirling pattern encircling an Eye of Ender, spilled across his shoulders in a rich gold, winding its way down the coat’s long tail. He wore a close-fitting white button-up jacket underneath, and black pants cut close to his body. A gold lined lapis stone lay against his neck.

  
More than satisfied with his appearance, George wove his way back out through the castle to the ballroom doors. He was the informal host, after all. The formal host, of course, was Dream. 

  
Before entering the ballroom, it was customary for the guests to take a walk through the palace gardens, which had been strung through with lanterns and chimes for the winter wind to set off. The Taiga Gardens had always been one of George’s favorite parts of the Ball. And so, he truly did love his job of greeting guests at the ballroom doors. He had a full view of the gardens and the stars overhead, clear as the Taiga lanterns. 

  
He began to greet the attendees, getting compliments almost immediately on the decor and on his outfit. While Dream was the host in name, it was no secret that George was the mastermind behind most of the ball’s splendor. Any compliments on his clothing, of course, would be credited to Bad. 

  
Speaking of Bad... 

  
George spotted the familiar carriage approaching the gates. 

  
As direct subordinates to the king, both Bad and Sapnap had a claim to high titles in the kingdom. While they technically came from the same chamber of the kingdom’s government, they had distinctly different roles. Still, as the two highest-ranking military officials in the kingdom, they arrived together. 

  
It wasn’t long before the two of them reached the ballroom doors, in coordinated outfits of the military’s gray and red. 

  
Sapnap was draped in a thick, elaborate gray cloak with a red interior, which hung off one shoulder to expose the insignia tattooed on his arm. While Sapnap had had that tattoo ever since he started serving the kingdom, Bad had traced the usual dark pattern with a vibrant red ink. Underneath, he wore baggy white pants and a black tank top. His prominent collarbones were on full display, and were highlighted by long red earrings. 

  
Sapnap’s style of dress was very unique to him, and he had something resembling a special pass to wear something a bit more casual and unusual. That was the formal explanation, anyway. Bad had always complied with Sapnap’s requests, and George didn’t think that anyone could really stop him from wearing what he wanted to the biggest event of the year. 

  
Bad, on the other hand, had a bit more of a traditional outfit. His insignia was bright red trailing over a gray shortsleeved kimono, open in the front to expose the close-fitting black outfit he wore underneath. Like Sapnap, the interior of Bad’s kimono was a bright red. Unlike Sapnap, Bad was draped in gold jewelry. 

  
Technically, the outfits for the kingdom’s most high-profile attendees were under George’s jurisdiction. However, a few years past, the chief healer of the military department had expressed an interest in designing. A single demonstration of Bad’s talent was all it took to bring him on board as the kingdom’s exclusive designer for the Taiga Ball. 

  
After a few exchanged compliments about the clothes and the scenery, Bad and Sapnap passed through the dark double doors and into the ballroom. 

  
George stayed at the doors for a little while longer, welcoming in the rest of the guests. It was almost 6:00. 

  
It was customary to keep the ballroom doors open during the Ball. While the Taiga Ball did take place in the winter, it wasn’t ever particularly cold at that point in the season. In addition, the open doors provided a nice view of the garden and eliminated embarrassment for any late guests, so there weren’t many downsides. 

  
George stepped away from the doors. His job was done for the evening. All he needed to do now was enjoy himself, and help out Dream when necessary. 

  
Dream... 

  
George couldn’t wait. He had spent the Taiga Ball with Dream before, of course, but never when they were like this. Never when they were closer than they’d ever been. Never when they were so much more than the friends, the partners they had always been. What were they, exactly? 

  
George shook his head to clear his thoughts. That was a question for another time. 

  
Dream typically gave his address at 6:30, after everyone had settled. George took a seat next to Bad and Sapnap. His deep second-in-command blue and gold stood out even more next to the red and gray of the military department, but George didn’t mind too much. 

  
Ordinarily, he hated being the center of attention. Still, in the case of the Ball, it was one night a year. And, while he’d never say it out loud, he liked the recognition. With all the time and energy he spent on the event, it was nice to be appreciated for his hard work.

  
He didn’t mind being recognized for his outfit, either. Blue and gold was his signature color scheme, and both colors made his pale complexion glow and his dark eyes and hair stand out in the soft light of the ballroom. All in all, it was a good day to be noticed. He couldn’t help but wonder what Dream would think. 

  
A familiar ring echoed off the high ceilings, bringing him out of his thoughts. The sound of the bell that rested deep inside the castle walls. 

  
The room fell quiet, almost immediately. 

  
And then, Dream appeared at the top of the stairs. 

  
He turned smoothly to address the entire ballroom, his usual easy, confident, smile capturing the room with little effort. George didn’t have to look around to know he wasn’t the only one mesmerized. 

  
Dream looked... 

  
Gorgeous. That was the only word.

  
He had a perfectly tailored black coat that billowed out behind him, its edges and lapels gilded with a bright silver. The coat was cinched at his waist with two white belts, and its interior was a rich emerald green. 

  
Dream himself was positively dripping with silver, from his ears, neck, and arms. The kingdom’s insignia stretched across his shoulders and wove into the gild in the same deep emerald green of his coat. The pattern was mirrored across half his mask, which bore its usual smile with the insignia in the background. A single emerald pendant rested at his throat, delicately carved like the Eye of Ender. 

  
“Welcome! All neighboring nations, all allied kingdoms.” 

  
His voice was smooth and sure. George really couldn’t picture anyone else ruling the kingdom. No one else he’d met had ever even come close to the pure certainty and confidence that filled Dream’s voice and radiated from his being. It was reassuring, and warm, and enough to make George melt, just as it had that morning. He sometimes thought Dream could pronounce a dead man living, and the body would believe him and rise from the dead. 

  
“As you know, there’s been an extremely talented team working around the clock to make all of this-“ 

  
Dream once again spun in a graceful circle, his cloak flowing out behind him as he opened his arms, gesturing at the entirety of the ballroom. 

  
“-possible. 

  
I’d like to thank you all as well. It’s rare that a political event is this fun, don’t you think?” 

  
Dream gave the room his familiar sharp-toothed smile that made George’s heart skip a beat, just as it always did. Laughter echoed through the ballroom. 

  
“There is still a purpose to this fancy party, as neat as it might be.” 

  
More laughter. 

  
“In case you need a reminder, all of you come from kingdoms participating in the Accord of Free Speech. Therefore, I believe I am justified in saying that this is the hotspot of free will this side of the Great Ocean!” 

  
Applause. 

  
It was certainly deserved, George thought. The Speech Accord was easily the kingdom’s magnum opus, an agreement among a large percentage of the world’s nations to build and maintain governments without absolute power. In fact, the disaster occurring in the neighboring kingdom had all started when the nation left the Accord in the midst of a tumultuous election. Many nations joined the Speech Accord in the following months. 

  
“Cheers to that, don’t you think?”

  
Dream raised a champagne glass that seemed to appear out of nowhere. 

  
A chorus of clinks sounded across the ballroom. 

  
“Well, I sincerely hope you enjoy yourselves. I will be seated at that table with the lovely George Notfound, who orchestrated almost the entire event before you.” 

  
Heat raced up George’s neck as he raised his hand to applause from the ballroom. 

  
“And of course, an honorable mention to our brilliant General Sapnap, without whom this Accord would not exist!” 

  
Applause, and a lazy hand up from Sapnap. That was deserved as well. While Dream held the credit for its execution, the concept of the Accord had come from the scimitar-wielding rogue arrested for protesting by a neighboring kingdom a few years back.

  
George had heard Sapnap tell the story, how Dream had walked into his cell with a crown, a sharp-toothed smile, and a proposition he couldn’t refuse. Sapnap helped to design the Accord of Free Speech and put it into effect, and the acclaimed warrior had joined the kingdom and fought by their side. 

  
“And of course, we are all wearing the product of several days of work by our very own Badboy Halo!” 

  
A hand up from Bad, and more applause. 

  
“Truly, it is fitting that the Taiga Ball would not exist without a group of extraordinarily talented individuals coming together for a greater purpose. 

  
That spirit of collaboration is the lifeblood of this Ball, and it is the lifeblood of the Speech Accord. To many more years together and to the Allies of the Accord, past, present, and future. 

  
Cheers.” 

  
Dream raised his glass again to applause a bit more boisterous than before and another round of clinks. 

  
He turned swiftly and all but glided down the flight of stairs in that casual, graceful manner he always had about him. 

  
George couldn’t take his eyes off of Dream, and the relative silence of the room told him he wasn’t alone, either. 

  
Amid quiet conversation, Dream moved to George’s table and took the chair beside him. 

  
George snuck a glance at Dream out of the corner of his eye. It really was unfair, how pretty he was. 

  
In fact, George was having trouble comprehending that this was the same Dream he had stayed up with, fallen asleep with, and held in the spring hollow as his best friend shook and struggled to breathe. 

  
When Dream turned to look at him, George flushed slightly. 

  
Dream didn’t freeze, exactly, but he did pause for a second just to look at George. 

  
“George, you look...” 

  
Dream shook his head in... could that be wonder? 

  
“Beautiful.” 

  
And George’s flush suddenly grew much more prominent. It took him a second too long to respond.

  
“Th-thank you!” 

  
Oh my God, Dream just said he looked beautiful. 

  
“You too.” 

  
George shook his head and smiled. He could do better. 

  
“You look...” 

  
Beautiful. Incredible. Gorgeous.

  
When the word finally forced itself out, it was much more candid than George was planning. 

  
“Stunning.” 

  
And George had never thought he’d see the day a light pink dusted Dream’s cheeks, but it was unmistakeable. 

  
Again, Dream paused for just a second before speaking. When he did, his voice was soft, a complete change from the smooth and outspoken Dream that had just given the address. This was the Dream he knew, and the Dream that he had... 

  
The Dream that he had fallen in love with.

  
“Thank you. I think Bad’s outdone himself.” 

  
“He has.” 

  
“George, I missed you today.” 

  
And George blinked. There was Dream’s confidence again. Or maybe, just maybe, if Dream’s slight change in expression was any indication, it had just slipped out, in the same way George’s compliment had just moments ago. 

  
It didn’t matter to George whether or not Dream had meant to say it. His heart rate sped up just the same. 

  
“Me too! I... don’t think I knew how used I was to just having you around. The last few days, too. It’s really strange just... not being with you.” 

  
George stumbled over his words. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought Bad had slipped him some kind of truth serum. What was with him today?

  
But in a second, his worries were gone. A soft smile spread across Dream’s face, and George recognized it from the two nights they had fallen asleep together. If his honesty brought that smile, that beautiful smile, to Dream’s face, why was George keeping the truth so hidden? 

  
And it was then that George had made his decision: he wouldn’t hold himself back. It seemed that this version of himself, a bit more open and honest, brought out something beautiful in Dream. 

  
He supposed it made sense. After all, he and Dream seemed most comfortable when they were off in their own universe together, away from the rest of the world. They had built a quiet peace, and a comfort that came from saying what they meant, whatever that may be. And so, George continued. 

  
“I think it’ll be nice to spend time together now without worrying about work.” 

  
Dream was silent for a moment too long, and George remembered. Dream would be working, all night. 

  
Dream sighed. 

  
“George, I really did mean it when I said you deserved a break. I-“ 

  
Dream turned away from him slightly.

  
“You don’t have to meet with me tonight. I’ve prepared everything I need, and... you deserve the night off.” 

  
Wait, what? 

  
Typically, George and Dream would consult each other over the course of the night, reflecting on how the various discussions were going and what progress still needed to be made. 

  
George supposed it was technically work, but there was a reason he considered his work to be finished at the start of the ball. It wasn’t work when it was with Dream. Those talks guaranteed that they would spend time together during the Ball, and George wouldn’t give it up for the world. 

  
“Dream, I missed you today, too. I... want to spend time with you tonight. Even if we don’t have to meet, I-“ 

  
And there was some powerful force inside him fighting to keep the words in. It wasn’t strong enough. 

  
“I want to, Dream.” 

  
Dream was quiet for a moment. Had George overstepped? There’s no way Dream would prioritize him over his work again. Oh God, he had just asked Dream to prioritize him over diplomacy. 

  
Dream flexed his fingers, silver rings glinting in the light from the glowstone crystals strung across the ballroom. 

  
Dream seemed to resign himself to something, and George braced himself for whatever he was about to be told. That Dream didn’t have time. That the only reason he had ever met with George at the Ball was for work.

  
“George...” 

  
George took a deep breath, preparing for the worst. 

  
“I want you to come with me.” 

  
George froze. What? 

  
“George, you’re my second-in-command. Your opinion is incredibly important to me. I want to spend tonight with you, too. I always meet with you during the Ball because I don’t trust myself to make decisions half as much as I trust you.” 

  
George was truly speechless. 

  
Dream’s nervous tells had all but disappeared as he picked up speed. George had always loved this moment: when Dream hit his stride, radiating pure confidence and light. It was incredible to watch, and, more often than not, infectious. 

  
Dream took both his hands. 

  
“George.” 

  
George couldn’t look away. He doubted his racing heart would let him, even if he tried. 

  
“You’re my number two because I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side. I don’t want to be away from you tonight, and it was rude of me to ever leave you behind when your voice is more important to me than anyone else’s.” 

  
His smile was different now, but just as beautiful as before. It was no longer shy, and was instead sure and honest. It was the perfect blend of the two versions of Dream he knew well. Confident and unafraid, but also honest enough to be vulnerable in a way Dream had only just started to be around him. 

  
“I can’t run the kingdom by myself. And I don’t. You deserve to be there. You’re important to the kingdom. You’re important to me. 

  
I want them-” 

  
Dream gestured to the ballroom.

  
“-to see that this place wouldn’t hold together without you. Come with me.” 

  
George couldn’t respond. How could he, when he was so breathless? 

  
All he could do was nod, and Dream’s smile grew even larger than before.

***

Dream and George, while eating dinner at the table with Sapnap and Bad, planned to migrate afterwards to the central long table for drinks and dessert. It was customary for royalty and democratic officials to meet at the table to discuss business without interrupting the rest of the attendees. 

  
George had never been to the central table before. 

  
He had hoped to hide his nerves, but it must have been more obvious than he thought. Dream had clearly picked up on it, turning to face him and running an arm across George’s shoulders. George couldn’t help himself and leaned back into the comforting gesture. 

  
He may have been wrong about how clearly his nervousness was coming across. After all, Dream had an almost superhuman tendency to pick up on small details, and with no one more than with George. 

  
Either way, he felt his heartbeat slow at the simple touch. 

  
“What are you worried about?”

  
Dream’s voice was soft, and George knew the conversation was theirs, and only theirs. 

  
And George was finding it oddly difficult to speak. 

  
“It’s kind of stupid.” 

  
Dream stayed quiet, so he continued.

  
“I don’t actually have any high official status. I’m not an elected official, and I’m not my kingdom’s ruler.” 

  
Dream cocked his head to the side. After a moment, he turned back to George, a small smile on his face. 

  
“George.” 

  
“What?” 

  
And he knew Dream was trying to contain his expression. He wasn’t particularly successful. Instead, he broke out into a wide grin as he spoke. 

  
“George, you’re royalty.” 

  
George couldn’t help the shock across his face. 

  
“What?” 

  
The grin turned sharp-toothed.

  
“You’re my partner. You aren’t just an advisor, you’re high-ranking royalty! The second highest in the kingdom, in fact.” 

  
“W-wait, since when?” 

  
“Since you took my hand, George.” 

  
George still remembered that night. He and Dream had rested on a hill facing the summer stars, and Dream had told him a grand story of a kingdom like one that had never been seen before. And Dream had stood up, offering him a hand to their future together. And George had taken it, without a second thought. And Dream’s legend had become a reality. 

  
“Look at your coat.” 

  
George did. 

  
“What about it?” 

  
“You’re the only blue and gold in the room, George.” 

  
Dream smiled at him again, and George was confused, but his heart skipped a beat nonetheless. 

  
“Advisors are in parliament.” 

  
Dream waved a hand towards the table of purple cloaks and white insignias across the room. 

  
“You’re not an advisor. Is the queen an advisor to the king?” 

  
Did Dream just compare their relationship to a king and a queen? 

  
George blinked. 

  
“So, what am I?” 

  
And Dream’s smile had grown softer once again as he spoke. 

  
“It’s up to you. Give it some thought.” 

  
And then Dream rose from his seat, moving so smoothly that he might as well have been floating. And George felt like he was floating, too, as Dream turned to face him and extended his hand once again. George took it, just as he always had. 

  
“Come on.” 

  
And as Dream led him up and out of his seat, George was sure that gravity’s hold on him had grown weak. How could he be tied to the earth, when he felt this light? Maybe he, too, was meant to float instead of walk. 

  
He was weightless, drawn up into orbit with Dream’s energy, Dream’s confidence, Dream’s smile. 

  
And suddenly, the crystals strung across the ceiling were no longer crystals, but the summer stars of that night so long ago. The ballroom was a brilliant nebula, and the two of them were twin satellites, drifting far above the atmosphere. 

  
And George grinned, too. He couldn’t help himself, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize again for the late upload. I made a lot of edits to this chapter, and I realized once I finished that I should upload the next day since most people aren’t reading at 1 am. Thank you for your patience! This chapter is a bit more exposition-heavy to set up properly for the next chapter. The finale of this fic is made up of a long chapter and a short chapter. I may upload them on the same day, but I’m not certain. Thank you for following along! This is as normal as it gets for a while :)


	5. Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George loved him. George loved it all. His dancing, his demons, his freckles, his fears. George never wanted to see the day the dam broke, the day Dream unraveled completely. The day the mask slipped from his face. But he loved him just the same. And he knew the disaster was looming on the horizon. He could see its horns, its deadly smile. He just couldn’t see its eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs for this chapter are Church by Fall Out Boy, Hallucinogenics by Matt Maeson, and Born For This by The Score.

  
George knew that he and Dream made a powerful pair. On the battlefield and in the kingdom, they complimented each other perfectly. The nation was woven from their undeniable chemistry, all their battles fought and won with a delicate mix of George’s precision and Dream’s sheer power and dexterity. 

  
Dream was a hurricane in wartime, an unstoppable force that moved too quickly to be seen, winding around the enemy with his blade until its deadly edge was everywhere at once. And George was the shadowed assassin, quick with a dagger and a perfect shot with a bow. And they read each other’s minds, their breaths and heartbeats in sync as they fought like one spirit in two bodies.

  
Still, George supposed he hadn’t fully realized what an asset the two of them were to the kingdom, even off the battlefield. He and Dream were immortal, untouchable, when they were working together in full force. 

  
George and Dream against the world. The thought sent something bright and strong and warm coursing through his veins. It was familiar, made of stardust and the gentle breeze of a cool summer night. That was how it all started, with a promise and an outstretched hand. 

  
And maybe that’s when something else started, too. Maybe the force that drew him to Dream had been born that day, when George first took his hand. Maybe Dream had taken a bit of his soul when he finally let go, and George had been incomplete ever since. 

  
And maybe he had a piece of Dream’s soul, too. 

  
It would explain their unmatched ability to read each other, helpful to no end with their diplomatic efforts. Dream would lead the conversation, with the occasional strategic comment from George. Those precise remarks were his arrows, backing up the confident flow of Dream’s words, mesmerizing as they left the tip of his tongue and wound around his target as tightly as his blade did in battle. 

  
All the while, they held worlds in their invisible communication, an unseen current joining them together. And Dream’s fingers stayed laced with his under the table, and sparks traveled between them, too. 

  
That particular part of the evening had passed quickly with Dream by his side, and soon enough a sea of waiters appeared to whisk their glasses from the table. A single chime rang through the hall once again. Dream stood up, and the guests of the main table followed his lead, rising from their seats. 

  
A second wave of the Ball’s staff came through to carry the table out through the front doors, making a large clearing in the center of the ballroom. The Taiga Ball was a ball, after all. 

  
The musicians on the small stage to the right of the hall filed off, with the band he and Dream had met on the Eve taking their place.

  
Dream moved to the center of the natural clearing, commanding the room once again. 

  
“I’d like to invite the bravest souls into the center to start off this side of the evening. I’d especially encourage those of you with a nation to command, and, therefore, dignity to lose.” 

  
Laughter once again echoed through the hall. 

  
George shook his head. It mystified him how Dream could switch so easily between a regal king, an earnest friend, and a performative host. He wondered which one was the real Dream. 

  
A small collection of people stepped forward into the clearing, an even mix of the central table attendees and outer officials, both local and foreign. George had never taken part in the first dance before. However, Bad had practically pushed him forward, and Dream’s smile seemed to evaporate his fears as quickly as they came. 

  
Dream was always the first to pick a partner for the dance, usually the highest priority diplomatic target that had stepped forward.

  
But Dream didn’t even look for a partner. 

  
Instead, he turned towards George, and took several slow, graceful steps towards him, extending his hand. 

  
And, like all those years ago, George had taken it without a second thought. 

  
And in that moment, Dream was even more beautiful than he’d seemed in the seconds before. Maybe it was because he looked like he had on the ballroom stairs, stunning and unreal. Maybe it was because that unreal version of Dream held the same soft smile as the Dream he knew. Maybe it was because all the silver and black reminded George of that night all those years ago. 

  
That deep black night, and its bright silver stars. 

  
The sparkling silver drew George’s eyes across the broad shoulders of Dream’s dark coat, which tapered down perfectly to his slim waist. And beyond that, Dream was all legs, dark and graceful and gorgeous. The black and silver brought out the tan in his skin, never fading even as the seasons changed. Dream looked like some kind of Roman god. A god who had just asked him to dance. 

  
And then, as if to remind George’s heart to beat, the circle around them dissolved into pairs like clockwork, with Bad finally succeeding in pulling in Sapnap when an odd number of people remained in the center. 

  
And Dream gave a cue to the band, and the first dance began. 

  
George had never danced with anyone like Dream. He had danced with people much more graceful than he was, and with people who were quite talented, but nothing felt quite the same as dancing with Dream. 

  
When he was dancing with Dream, George knew exactly what it felt like to move the way Dream did. For the few minutes of the song, he too seemed to float on air as Dream pulled him close and spun him away, the two of them moving in tandem across the floor of the ballroom. It was as if Dream had given George a bit of his magic, if only for a song. 

  
George wasn’t a bad dancer, but he was sure his feet had never moved quite as surely as they did now. Every step felt predetermined, and safe, and perfect. How could he be afraid, when missteps seemed to be an impossibility? 

  
Dream’s hands flitted across his own, and occasionally across his shoulders and waist, which never failed to make his heart skip beats. 

  
He really did feel like he was floating off the ground, with Dream as his only anchor to earth. He was a planet, and Dream was the sun. 

  
And when Dream’s hands finally slid all the way around his waist to lower him into a dip, he forgot how to breathe. 

  
He never wanted this to end. 

  
But, it did. 

  
And the clearing around them had all but disappeared, the rest of the attendees flooding the center of the ballroom. George waited until the last second to release Dream’s hand. If it wasn’t just his wishful thinking, Dream did the same, only letting go of George when a guest from the main table offered her hand to Dream instead. 

  
George recognized her instantly. Diplomatic priority number one, by Dream’s listing. 

  
She was the ruler of the only other kingdom bordering the disaster that was the tyrant nation. Powerful and well-connected, she was instrumental in Dream’s plan to stop the president-turned-dictator that had occupied so much of the night’s conversation. The president-turned-dictator of the nation of L’manburg. 

  
The tyrant, a full-blooded Minotaur from a rural province of his kingdom, had been democratically elected. 

  
Still, the nation had left the Speech Accord partway through election season to allow for a shift in political parties. As a result, the power of the newly elected leader ran unchecked, and within moments of his inauguration the old leaders were evicted from the kingdom and the nation’s infamous walls had been torn down. The president had no plan to relinquish his newfound power, either. 

  
A ruthless leader at the helm of one of the most powerful nations in the land was an unquestionable threat to all the members of the Accord, and, indeed, to the existence of the Speech Accord itself. 

  
There was a bit of a personal motive to resolve the situation, as well. After all, the nation of L’manburg had been the first additional kingdom to sign the Accord. One of the oldest allies of every nation present at the Ball was in a time of crisis, and Dream and George would need all the support they could get. And the most important provider of that support had just reached for Dream’s hand. 

  
She was the high-profile diplomatic relation that Dream would have ordinarily shared his first dance with. 

  
But he chose George. 

  
And so, Dream took her hand for the second dance. 

  
It was the second dance.

  
It was still painful, in a place George couldn’t quite name, and for a reason he couldn’t quite put into words. 

  
He took one step back, and then another, retreating to the left of the ballroom. Maybe he’d get a drink. 

  
He still couldn’t take his eyes off of Dream.

  
After all, there was a certain kind of magic in watching Dream dance from a distance. George couldn’t feel it himself like before, but it was still clear exactly how little regard Dream had for gravity as he moved around the queen.

  
Still, he kept her at arm’s length, choosing instead to pivot around her and pull her into a series of elaborate spins that served quite well to keep her hands off of him.

  
George suspected that Dream was moving too quickly to be held. Every step was strategic and precise, designed to keep the queen’s hands far away from him as he twirled her across the gilded floor. Dream’s grace and dexterity really were a unique counter to his issues with contact. After all, if Dream had the force of gravity under his command, it didn’t matter whether or not his partner had a handhold. 

  
George remembered his dance with Dream, how they had seemed to drift far away from the ballroom and into the starry atmosphere. George had been floating far above the earth, but he wasn’t afraid. After all, when he felt so weightless, how could there be any danger of falling? 

  
Still, Dream had held him close, even as the earth grew distant beneath their feet. 

  
Dream kept up his walls between him and the queen, a delicate, invisible shield that George knew all too well from the first few years he’d spent with Dream. It was oddly symbolic. A regal, elaborate exchange that kept them afloat, but distant. A diplomatic dance. 

  
George sometimes wondered if Dream had lived his whole life once over already. It would explain his confidence and the way he moved like he knew where every atom in the universe was going to be when gravity finally brought him back to earth. 

  
And it would explain why George felt like he’d known Dream for longer than even a full life would allow. 

  
George’s thoughts were interrupted by a soft laugh from behind him. 

  
When he turned around, he met Sapnap’s gaze, sharp as always. Despite his youth, he had always had the deep black eyes of a golem, ancient and just a bit dangerous. Still, this time there was something a bit different in the way Sapnap looked at him, and it took George a few moments to identify. 

  
Sapnap knew everything, somehow, and the thought pulled apart George’s defenses before he even had time to speak. 

  
Sapnap’s smirk was familiar. The softness in his eyes, less so. He held a bright red drink in his hand. 

  
“Man, you have it bad, huh?” 

  
It took a George a few seconds to even process what Sapnap had said. 

  
And of course by then, the tips of his ears had already gone red and it was far too late. 

  
And so, George stayed silent, offering up only a sigh. It seemed to sum up his feelings on the subject rather well. 

  
“Yeah, I’ve known for a while.” 

  
“What? How?” 

  
The young general laughed again, and George knew it was from the panic Sapnap had heard in his voice. 

  
“George, the way you look at him, it’s like...”

  
Sapnap exhaled and shook his head. 

  
“You look at Dream like he’s your whole world.” 

  
And the heat up his neck hadn’t quite faded, but he couldn’t keep the small smile from his face at Sapnap’s words. 

  
He was right, wasn’t he? 

  
George had it bad. 

  
He had it bad for the king. 

  
For his best friend. 

  
For Dream. 

  
“There it is again.” 

  
“What?” 

  
“That sappy smile you two idiots get whenever you look at each other.” 

  
It wasn’t just George? 

  
Dream looked at him like that?

  
“Just once, do something like that when he’s looking.” 

  
Sapnap paused for a moment. 

  
“Now that I think about it, Dream’s even more obvious than you and you still miss the hint, so I don’t really know how to help you.” 

  
“You really think so?” 

  
Sapnap cocked his head to the side. 

  
“What?” 

  
And George had been a little too honest all throughout the evening. He had slipped up, more than once, more than twice. Maybe this was what his brain had been preparing him for. He needed practice, needed strength. And for once, he had it. 

  
“You think Dream loves me, too?” 

  
And Sapnap was silent. 

  
And George’s heart stopped beating, if only for a second. 

  
And then, Sapnap nodded, with an expression like George had missed the most obvious hint in the world. Maybe he had. 

  
“Yeah.” 

  
George took a breath, just to steady himself. 

  
It wasn’t enough, so he closed his eyes and took a second, and a third. 

  
When he opened them, Sapnap was still looking at him, eyebrows raised. 

  
“Well?” 

  
“Well, what?” 

  
“You should go get him. Trust me, he didn’t want to leave you any more than you wanted to leave him.” 

  
George let his eyes roam across the ballroom, scanning for Dream.

  
He found him. 

  
And then, he saw quite possibly the only thing that could tear his eyes away. 

  
Smooth, curled, dark horns. 

  
And all the blood drained from his body. 

  
A Minotaur. 

  
There were no Minotaurs on the attendee list. He had personally mailed an invitation to everyone currently standing in the room.

  
Everyone, that is, except the dictator of L’manburg. 

  
Schlatt. 

  
How? How did he get here? 

  
The doors were open. They were always open. He left them open.

  
Oh God. 

  
And he was headed straight for Dream, as the second song came to a close. 

  
And George was a second from breaking into a sprint when Schlatt turned to face him, meeting his eyes from across the ballroom. 

  
His irises were a deep red. 

  
And George couldn’t move. 

  
Schlatt lifted a single finger to his lips and turned back with a smirk, continuing his stride towards the king. 

  
George was completely, utterly, frozen. 

  
He was helpless to watch. 

  
He saw the exact moment when Dream first noticed Schlatt. 

  
He saw the exact moment when Schlatt had once again raised his finger to his lips. 

  
He saw every step of Dream’s inner war, as clear as if they were his own thoughts. 

  
First, only a few people in the room even knew what Schlatt looked like. The president was new, after all, and famously uninterested in diplomacy. 

  
Second, while Schlatt’s horns drew attention to him, only Dream and George knew for certain that there were no Minotaurs on the attendee list. 

  
Third, despite the fact that they both knew what he was and what he looked like, neither of them had noticed Schlatt until just now. Somehow, he had blended into the crowd, staying hidden and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. 

  
Finally, and most importantly, up until now, Schlatt had refused to meet with anyone. 

  
Dream had one chance to talk to Schlatt, and it was right now, in the fragile peace of the ballroom, hidden in plain sight. 

  
Dream was trapped, and all three of them knew it. 

  
And so, George was silent. 

  
And a deep resignation spread across Dream’s face, and he nodded. 

  
Schlatt’s smile grew wider. 

  
He offered his hand to Dream, the same motion as the queen’s. It was a formality. He could have been holding a knife, and it wouldn’t have made a difference.

  
Dream took it, the line of his mouth and the set of his jaw more serious than George had ever seen him. And George saw Dream lower himself, just slightly, into the pose from the market street. Preparing for disaster. 

  
And the dance began. 

  
And George was just close enough to the two of them and just far enough from the band that their words echoed over the crowd and out to where George stood. 

  
Dream’s voice was smooth and ice cold, all the warmth from earlier that evening nowhere to be seen. 

  
“What are you doing here?” 

  
Dream twirled Schlatt away from him, dodging every attempt made to hold onto Dream’s back and shoulders. 

  
The queen had given up. The queen had given in, to the whirlwind of Dream’s movement and the security of his steps. Schlatt fought back with every move, every tight turn, hands always seeking some part of Dream’s body to hold onto. 

  
The motion was just calculated enough that it sent a chill down George’s spine. Something wasn’t right. 

  
“Isn’t it obvious?” 

  
Schlatt, almost as smoothly, changed direction to pull himself back in along Dream’s arm. 

  
And Schlatt glanced up at Dream, the movement almost casual. Still, something in his eyes bubbled with danger as he spoke.

  
“I’m here to dance.” 

  
The change in Dream’s expression was almost imperceptible. 

  
George knew he was steeling himself in the name of diplomacy. Dream was putting his work first, like always. 

  
And yet, a voice in his head was quick to remind him that that was untrue. In the past few days, Dream had chosen George over his work more than once. It had confused him at first, but then George had figured it out. 

  
Dream prioritized his work over himself, and it had never been more obvious than at this moment.

  
“Aren’t you obligated by your citizens to rejoin the Accord? You were democratically elected, after all.” 

  
Schlatt grinned. 

  
“They voted for me, not the Speech Accord. They wanted me in power. Who am I to step down?”

  
And Dream and Schlatt were fighting for the lead of the dance as they spoke, Dream pulling him away at every opportunity and moving too fast to be held, just as he had with the queen. Still, the extra burst of speed in his movements spoke of just how on edge Dream was.

  
Meanwhile, Schlatt spun himself closer with every chance he had, using his momentum and Dream’s to twirl himself back into Dream’s arms, or at least as close as he could get before Dream pulled him away again. 

  
Push and pull. 

  
Towards and away. 

  
The two of them moved like some perfect automaton. A clockwork routine, mathematical and engineered down to the second.

  
Dream’s response was just as smooth, just as quick, and just as cold. 

  
“You were elected as part of a democratic system. That system stays in place, no matter who leads it. You’ll be voted out if you don’t take the actions your citizens support.” 

  
And something in Schlatt’s eyes had burned hot and dangerous. Deep fire, in his eyes. Deep fire, winding through his words and suffocating Dream with smoke. 

  
“Who said I’m keeping the system?” 

  
And Dream’s expression didn’t change, but his movements grew just a bit sharper. At the start of the song, Dream had extended the automatic gentleness of a dance partner to Schlatt, whether out of habit or a spirit of diplomacy. That gentleness had now disappeared almost entirely. George recognized the new energy in Dream’s steps from the battles he’d fought by Dream’s side. His movements were graceful, but as sharp and as dangerous as the edge of his sword. 

  
And Schlatt noticed. And he stopped giving Dream any kind of room to breathe, pulling his orbit in tighter and tighter. Dream was working overtime to keep him away, using every ounce of his inhuman speed to outpace Schlatt’s relentless attempts to pull Dream closer.

  
They traded lines and moves, their dance holding the same energy as a sword fight on the battlefield. 

  
Dream’s words were his polished blade, stealing breath with its seemingly endless edge. Dream often seemed to be wielding a silver ribbon instead of a sword, sharp enough to cut glass and obeying nothing but the laws of Dream’s own personal reality. Every line was smooth and cold, sharp and unforgiving of error. 

  
Schlatt’s words were a dagger dipped in nightshade, impossibly sharp and perfectly hidden until the enemy stepped just a bit too close, dodged just a bit too late. His responses were quick, and almost casual, a simmering danger lying just beneath an air of flirtatiousness that was starting to make George sick. 

  
Ice and fire. 

  
And George knew Schlatt had been waiting for the perfect moment. He knew almost every word was a distraction, meant to wear Dream down until something slipped through a chink in his armor.

  
George just never thought it would happen.

  
It did. 

  
“Hmmm, any reason you’re trying so hard to keep me away?” 

  
And Dream slipped up, just for a second. 

  
He glanced at George, just for a second. 

  
But a second was all it took. 

  
Schlatt saw it.

  
And when he spoke, his voice was a little sharper, a little more dangerous. 

  
A little more venom, lying beneath the surface. 

  
“Your advisor, huh?” 

  
And Dream tensed. 

  
“I saw you guys dancing at the start. You two are pretty close, huh?” 

  
Dream went dead silent. 

  
“Yeah, I’ve been here a while. Honestly, what’s a guy gotta do to get noticed around here? 

  
Anyway, I’ve been watching you look around this place. I’d bet you were planning on some kind of secret signal, huh?” 

  
And Dream had straightened his spine at that last sentence, and George knew Schlatt was right. Schlatt knew it, too. 

  
And George saw the exact moment that a mental wall had gone up behind Dream’s mask. He had seen this happen once or twice before, when Dream lost all his outward expression and closed himself off from the outside world almost completely. Dream had to stop Schlatt from reading his mind at all costs. Even George couldn’t quite tell what was going through his head. 

  
“Maybe with that special advisor of yours? You sure like him, don’t you? Either that, or you dance with every pretty woman like she’s a Minotaur.” 

  
He gave Dream another dangerous, toothy, grin. 

  
“So, pretty boy, that leaves two options.” 

  
Another chill ran down George’s spine and he couldn’t help the new wave of disgust in his system. 

  
“Either it’s him-” 

  
And Schlatt turned to face George, and Dream’s eyes followed his stare. And Dream saw something behind him. George saw it in the set of Dream’s mouth, and in the movement of his shoulders. George was in danger. 

  
And then Schlatt turned back to Dream, and that was worse.

  
“Or it’s you.” 

  
And Dream had been thinking. 

  
George knew Dream had been thinking of a plan to escape, a plan to leave, a plan to get George out. 

  
And he hadn’t been watching Schlatt closely enough. 

  
Dream had pulled Schlatt across him and extended his arm, twirling him outwards. And, when Dream had seen whatever it was behind George, Schlatt had spun in a neat circle. And, when Dream had been thinking of something, anything, Schlatt had arced himself back towards Dream. 

  
And by the time Dream turned to face him again, it was too late. 

  
And George knew whatever was happening behind him was nothing more than a distraction.

  
Because George knew what was about to happen. 

  
Because God, he didn’t know how, but Schlatt knew what was going to happen, too. 

  
Because this had been Schlatt’s plan, all along. It was a twisted set-up, a plot to prove the existence of Dream’s fatal weakness. And Schlatt was enjoying every second of it. 

  
And George had suspected it since the beginning. Maybe he had always known. Either way, he had seen it coming from a mile away. He had seen it the moment they started dancing and he didn’t do anything. He didn’t do anything. God, why couldn’t he ever do anything? 

  
Dream was confident, Dream was sure. Dream threw himself into his work, into his kingdom, into battle. Dream didn’t wait for a second, didn’t hesitate to do the right thing. Dream would have done something, if he was in George’s place. But he wasn’t. And George had let him down. 

  
And he suddenly realized exactly what Dream had been preparing for, exactly what he was trying to prevent. All those too-fast-flinches, all those defensive moves without a clear threat. That day at the market. That day in Bad’s chamber. A few minutes before, when he had just started to dance with Schlatt. Dream lived his life in fear of this moment. 

  
In fear of disaster. 

  
This was a disaster.

  
And Schlatt’s aim was flawless.

  
He propelled himself directly into Dream’s chest, and slid his arms around Dream’s waist. 

  
Oh no. 

  
And Dream practically seized up at the contact. 

  
Oh God, it was a nightmare. 

  
“Hmmm, you know, it’s a shame you don’t show yourself off more often. You’ve got such a tight waist.” 

  
And raw, wild, anger joined the fear and panic pooling deep inside George. Schlatt knew exactly what he was doing to Dream. And he was having fun doing it. 

  
George had to do something. Anything. But his feet were frozen to the ballroom’s gilded floor.

  
“Then again, it’s probably been a while since you’ve dressed to get someone’s hands on you.” 

  
And George knew Dream must have been barely listening with Schlatt pressed up against him. Still, Dream’s choked gasp was unmistakeable. 

  
George couldn’t move. Why couldn’t he move?

  
And Schlatt’s arms grew tighter around Dream’s waist, pulling Dream’s hips flush against his. And Schlatt tipped his head back with a sigh.   
  


Schlatt was enjoying this. That bastard. God, that bastard. 

  
George had never been known to have a temper lying close to the surface. He had never been known to have the same danger in his eyes as Schlatt, or even Sapnap. But at that moment, something hot and lethal started to simmer in George’s chest.

  
Schlatt leaned back, just slightly, and craned his neck, sweeping his eyes over Dream, his gaze almost calculating. And then, something changed in his eyes, and his voice held just an air of disbelief when he spoke.

  
“God, you’re pretty.” 

  
And the look in his eyes was real. A twisted admiration. A hunter’s admiration for its prey, not for its beauty in life, but for the way its head would look up on a wall.

  
And one of Schlatt’s hands slid up Dream’s back, deliberate and slow, brushing across Dream’s shoulders and finally winding around his neck, pressing the two of them even closer together. 

  
And Schlatt leaned close to Dream’s ear. George read the words off his lips. 

  
“I’m right, aren’t I?” 

  
And Schlatt’s eyes were dark, and his mouth was curved into a smirk. And he leaned down, and pressed his parted lips to Dream’s neck. And George saw the swipe of his tongue. 

  
And something inside Dream broke, and George saw it happen. And, oh God, nothing else mattered anymore. Because the mirror had shattered, and Dream was held together only by the mask on his face. 

  
And the fear and panic and white-hot fury in his chest were one, bleeding into George’s vision. A crimson maelstrom was all that was left of George, coursing through his veins with enough lightning to finally melt whatever was freezing him to the floor. George broke into a run, and all thoughts of the ball and diplomacy were gone from his head. All he could think about was Dream.

  
Dream.

  
But before George could reach him, Dream shook violently and twisted in Schlatt’s arms, flinging his elbows out to either side in a motion so desperate and so wild that it broke Schlatt’s hold and knocked him to the ground. And then, Dream bolted from the ballroom, moving faster than George had ever seen anyone move in his life. 

  
And George followed him. It didn’t matter where he was going. He left Schlatt behind him on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! I really do apologize for this chapter coming out so late. At risk of making you all hate me, I have split what I originally envisioned as the fifth chapter in half. The second piece is more or less finished as well, and it will most likely be uploaded tomorrow. I hope you all enjoyed the update! This is another chapter that I’ve been editing nonstop since it was first written and I have definitely spent longer trying to get it right than was strictly necessary. Hopefully, it paid off! I’d love to hear your comments if you’re willing to give them. I read every single one and they make my day! Thank you all for following along so far! All the waiting will pay off soon.


	6. All Those Years Ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George didn’t know what it was, but something about the stars invited him to lay his soul bare. They must have held some kind of magic, forging a bond between him and Dream on that hill all those years ago. That bond had been pulling him back, back to the starry skies and the night he first took Dream’s hand. And Dream felt it, too. They were back under the stars, and something felt different. Something felt wonderfully, incredibly different. He supposed it made sense. After all, the last time he had taken Dream’s hand, George had still been following Rule Number One. Turn around if Dream’s mask falls off his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs for this chapter are Glory by Bastille, Killer Whales by Smallpools, and Just My Soul Responding by Amber Run. 
> 
> Slight warning: I tried very hard to keep this chapter rated T, but I couldn’t entirely help myself. I’m keeping the rating, but in general, this chapter just has some more suggestive themes/references.

  
Dream took a sharp turn down a steep stairwell, and on any other day George would have stumbled trying to follow him. Today, his steps were sure. 

  
Dream burst through one pair of double doors, and then another, and another, finally flinging open an old overgrown door that George had never even seen before. Dream made it to the end of the room before he dropped to his knees. George had never once seen this room, cracked concrete and loose stones with grass and vines growing up through the gaps. 

  
George closed the door behind him. Did Dream even know that George was following him? 

  
Dream pressed his hands to his temples, his knuckles white. And then, he collapsed sideways and curled into himself. 

  
George wasn’t supposed to be there. George wasn’t supposed to see this. He couldn’t stay, not in secret. But he couldn’t leave Dream like that. God, he couldn’t leave his best friend like that. 

  
George was going to call his name, but the word died on his lips as Dream pulled off his mask and flung it aside. 

  
Oh God, Dream didn’t know he was there. 

  
George pivoted on one heel in an instant, turning around completely in a strict habit dating back to the first days of the kingdom. Rule Number One. 

  
He took a deep breath. George wasn’t impulsive. He wasn’t decisive. Dream had always filled that role for him, the master of instinct and intuition, making snap decisions and judgements to act in the moment. To fight for what was right, regardless of the consequences.

  
And George had just stood by and watched a disaster unfold that he had seen coming. He had seen it coming, and he had done nothing. And George would never let it happen again. And so, George took a second breath, and he turned around. 

  
He fought for each step forward, pausing for just a second to steady himself when he finally reached his best friend. 

  
Still, his voice was almost a whisper. 

  
“Dream.” 

  
And Dream bolted upright and planted a foot on the wall behind him, launching off of it and tackling George to the ground. And then, they locked eyes.

  
And this time George really had forgotten how to breathe. 

  
Holy mother of God, Dream wasn’t human. 

  
Dream wasn’t human. 

  
But before he had a chance to think, Dream shook violently and rolled off of him, his body wracked with shivers as tears spilled down his face. His hands were tangled in the back of his hair, his arms pressed to either side of his head. 

  
And, just like that, his eyes were forgotten. 

  
That didn’t matter. 

  
Dream mattered. 

  
Whatever he might be. 

  
George rushed to Dream’s side. 

  
“Dream-”

  
His voice was quiet, and broke halfway through the word. 

  
And it was only when Dream choked out his name, almost too quietly to hear, that George’s own tears finally spilled over. 

  
“George...?” 

  
“What can I- Dream, what can I-”

  
And he stopped, then, because Dream grabbed his hand desperately, like it was the only thing holding him to earth.

  
And then a piercing noise filled his ears. The sound grew louder and louder, worming its way inside of George’s head and into his body, into his blood. The ringing seemed to echo inside him endlessly, from every bone, from every cell. And George knew it wouldn’t help, but he still pressed his free hand and his other shoulder to his ears, curling up on the ground beside Dream, desperate to drown out the noise. 

  
And George couldn’t quite explain what happened next. From his perspective, he had just fallen through the floor. 

  
George had the peculiar sensation of free falling, and he couldn’t seem to open his eyes. He was a meteor, crashing to earth. He was a dragon, soaring above an endless, desolate, landscape. He was a glittering tear in spacetime, deep underground. Pillars. Crystals. Hopelessness, like he had never felt. And then his eyes opened.

  
It was several seconds before the crackle of the void left his ears. 

  
He was in... the spring clearing? 

  
Dream was lying beside him, motionless, his mask in the grass next to him. 

  
They were still holding hands. 

  
“Dream!” 

  
George propped his elbows on either side of Dream, hovering over him. 

  
And Dream opened his eyes. 

  
And George was, once again, at a loss for words. 

  
Because, Dream’s eyes had pulled him beneath the waves, and George had no hope of escaping. Black, like the night sky. Green, like the spring hollow, Brilliant, sparkling, emerald, like the insignia on his coat. Like the gemstones in his crown. Like the pendant at his neck.  
  


Because, Dream’s eyes were swirling, pooling, stunning Eyes of Ender.

  
God, they were beautiful. 

  
And George didn’t care what they were. 

  
He could drown in Dream’s eyes. 

  
And Dream reached around George’s neck with shaking hands and pulled him down. 

  
And they laid there together, just as they had that late night in Dream’s room, their tears running into the grass. 

  
And then, when Dream’s heartbeat finally slowed, he clutched George even tighter as a fresh wave of tears spilled out and over his cheeks. And George held him close as Dream’s shoulders shook, from Schlatt, and from George, and from his stuttering breaths. 

  
George reached up to hold Dream’s face in his hands, his thumbs running across Dream’s cheekbones and interrupting the thin streams down his cheeks. 

  
It took Dream another minute or two to get his breathing back under control. When he finally succeeded, Dream sighed, and leaned into his hands. 

  
And George read his mind. He brought one hand up to run through Dream’s hair, in the way that had become so familiar to them both. And then, Dream closed his eyes. 

  
And Dream smiled. And it was just as genuine and just as beautiful as it had always been. And that was all George needed.

  
They stayed in the grass for a while, their breathing falling into sync and their heartbeats in perfect step. This felt different. Different in a good way, in a way George had never felt before. This was the way it was always meant to be, him and Dream together like this. And maybe they were trading back the pieces of their souls that had been lost that night on the hill. Maybe they were completing each other, here in the grass of the spring hollow on the night of the Taiga Ball. 

  
And then George sat up, and Dream came with him. It was just like that night, all those years ago, and yet something was different. 

  
He glanced at Dream with a small smile, and Dream returned it, a grin playing on his lips. It was just like that night, and yet something was different. 

  
And Dream stood up, then, and offered George his hand. It was just like that night. God, it was just like that night. 

  
And George stood up, too. He took Dream’s hand without a second thought. It was just like that night. But it wasn’t. 

  
And instead, Dream’s fingers were in his hair. 

  
And instead, his arms were around Dream’s neck.

  
And instead, Dream’s lips were on his.

  
And everything else slipped his mind.

  
George was sure that Dream’s sparks had finally short-circuited his brain. He was warmer than he’d ever been, and Dream was everywhere, filling up his senses until he forgot where he was. Dream was his anchor to the earth. And he was Dream’s. And when they broke apart for a second, they moved together again like it was the only thing keeping them sane.

  
And it was.

  
And George felt something snap inside them both, and the press of their lips grew desperate. Desperate, because this was what they’d been missing. Desperate, from all the years that they’d stayed apart. Desperate, because they had both wanted this, needed this, ever since that night, all those years ago.

  
The sparks were lighting him up from the inside out, electricity coursing through his veins, liquid fire, and confidence, and strength. George pushed Dream up against the cliff’s wall, and he moved to Dream’s neck. And George couldn’t get enough of the sounds Dream made, couldn’t get enough of his heat, his skin, his taste. And when he bit down on the crook of Dream’s neck and slid a hand up Dream’s shirt in unison, Dream’s legs gave out beneath him and the two of them slid back down to the ground. 

  
And Dream tipped George backwards into the grass and met his lips again, pinning George’s hands above his head. A low rush coiled deep in his stomach and he gasped, moving up into Dream almost unconsciously. And Dream made a soft, beautiful noise, and the hand he kept in George’s hair had tugged just hard enough that a second rush of something hot flooded his body. He was trembling, and he never wanted to stop.

  
George’s lips parted, and Dream’s parted too, until their breaths couldn’t be told apart. They needed each other, needed each other so badly, and George couldn’t think, and he didn’t want to, and Dream was on top of him- 

  
And God, George had never felt this good in his entire life. 

  
But Dream was shaking. 

  
And so, George wrenched himself away. 

  
Dream was panting, his slit pupils blown wide and his lips puffy. He was flushed, and his hair was messy from being pulled, and he looked just a bit dizzy in a way that made George want to kiss him until Dream forgot where he was completely. 

  
Something inside George began to heat up again, and it took him embarrassingly long to remember why he had broken away in the first place. In all fairness, he was still remembering how to breathe.

  
“You’re... shaking.” 

  
And Dream’s eyes had gone wide at that. 

  
“No- I- I’m fine. It’s just...” 

  
He broke off and gave a vague gesture to his head and his body.

  
George froze. How could he forget? How could he be so selfish? 

  
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” 

  
And Dream’s smile was soft, and his eyes were softer. 

  
“George, I’m fine.”

  
But George couldn’t quite meet his eyes, and his voice was almost shy when he spoke. 

  
“Is it... too much?” 

  
Dream blinked once at the question. 

  
“It’s...” 

  
He sighed. 

  
“It’s a lot. But it’s- God, George, it’s too much in the best possible way. It’s overwhelming, but... I want to be overwhelmed. I don’t ever want it to stop.” 

  
And Dream flushed scarlet, and it was even prettier when it spread all the way up his face. And it looked so beautiful with his freckles and his eyes... 

  
George shook his head. 

  
“Me neither. But Dream, you have to tell me the minute it gets too strong to handle. Alright?” 

  
Dream nodded and took a breath, closing his eyes. 

  
“Okay.” 

  
And by then, George had finally recovered enough of his brain to remember what he had done to Dream a few minutes ago. 

  
“Oh God, I put my hand up your shirt.”

  
And Dream had laughed, the sound clear and beautiful. 

  
“George- I can’t even explain to you what that felt like.” 

  
George buried his face in his hands.

  
“I’m so sorry! I got carried away, and-”

  
“George, I’m alright.”

  
And Dream’s eyes seemed to glow in the starlight, the bright green surrounding his cat’s-eye-pupils melting into a deep black at the edge of his irises. 

  
And George was lost in Dream’s eyes, again, and he never wanted to leave. 

  
But Dream’s gaze had drifted away from him, something odd clouding his vision. 

  
And George’s voice was quiet.

  
“Dream?” 

  
And the clouds in his eyes had turned to glass, far off tears swirling together the emerald and black. 

  
“George-” 

  
Dream closed his eyes and took in a slow breath, steadying himself.

  
“I’m so sorry.” 

  
And George sighed, and the two of them leaned together in silence for a moment.

  
“Dream, you have nothing to be sorry for.” 

  
But Dream’s eyes were pained, and wide with earnest emotion.

  
“George, I have so much to be sorry for. I attacked you under the castle, I took you to the hollow, I didn’t tell you anything. I didn’t tell you for so long. I built this kingdom with you-” 

  
And Dream’s voice broke, and George’s heart broke, too. 

  
“God, we built it from a hill in the middle of nowhere. Together. And I couldn’t even tell you who I was.” 

  
And George slid a hand across Dream’s shoulders, just as he did the last time they had leaned against this cliff together, a lifetime ago. 

  
And, just like the last time, Dream leaned back against him.

  
“Dream, it’s alright. It really is. And I think I understand.”

  
George did understand. Monsters were just rare enough to be distrusted by the general population, and people like Dream were rarer than most. Endermen were almost unheard of outside of the fabled hell dimension, and George had never even heard of an Ender-human hybrid before. All in all, being non-human, particularly as the ruler of a kingdom, would be undeniably difficult. 

  
And Dream had something most non-humans didn’t have.

  
The ability to hide.

  
“How far removed?”

  
Dream turned his eyes upward to the cliff and the stripe of stars visible at its edge.

  
“A grandparent, I think. You know I never knew my parents.” 

  
George did know that. 

  
Dream kept his eyes turned to the stars, his gaze somewhere far away. George kept silent, letting them rest together in the quiet hollow as Dream collected his thoughts. 

  
In the end, he hadn’t spoken. 

  
Instead, Dream simply held up the pendant resting around his neck. George leaned in to see it, and Dream turned it over. A single word was inscribed on the back. 

  
Clay. 

  
“Why Clay?” 

  
And George knew Dream had already planned out the answer to the inevitable question. Still, Dream had to take a breath to steady himself. 

  
His voice was quiet when he spoke. 

  
“It’s my name.” 

  
And George was lost in thought, himself. He had never thought about the fact that Dream might not have been born with his name. 

  
“This was all I had from my parents. I knew my name was Clay, and I knew there was something wrong with my eyes.” 

  
And then George put it together. Dream had no ties to his family. He had no ties to the name he had been given, no ties to the eyes that made him so different from everyone else around him.

  
Dream, who had been lost in a world that didn’t want him. Dream, who had given himself a new name, and a new face. 

  
And he had built his life from the ground up on a hill with George, looking out at the stars. 

  
George was quiet, and so was Dream. And he knew Dream was reading every thought that crossed his mind, just as he always had. 

  
And so, George held nothing back.

  
“Dream, I love your eyes. They’re not... wrong, they’re stunning. I was surprised when I first saw them, but it didn’t change the way I feel about you.” 

  
And George took Dream’s face in his hands. 

  
And George smiled, and it was soft and honest. It was the same smile that Sapnap had described, and George wasn’t afraid of it anymore. 

  
“Dream, nothing you do could ever change the way I feel about you.” 

  
And Dream’s eyes glassed over with tears again, but neither of them seemed to mind. 

  
George pulled him close where they sat in the hollow, resting his head on Dream’s shoulder. 

  
“I love you as you were. I love you as you are. You’re Dream to me, but you can be Clay, too. You aren’t someone new, and you’re aren’t pretending to be. Dream, you’ve always been like this, strong, and brave, and brilliant. You stand up for what you believe in and you’ll fight forever for what’s right.” 

  
And George had hit his stride. Was this what it always felt like for Dream? George was more confident than he’d ever been. He was finally sure of something. He was sure of Dream. And so, he let the final honest truth of that evening slip past his lips, and he didn’t regret it for a second. 

  
“Why do you think I fell in love with you?” 

  
And he was sure he was shining, radiating the light and warmth he had always felt from Dream when they were together. Dream’s expression told him he was right.

  
And Dream had stopped trying to wipe the tears from his face long ago. 

  
“George-” 

  
He broke off, and swallowed hard before trying again. 

  
And Dream’s voice was softer than George had ever heard it. 

  
“How could I ever deserve you?”

  
And George’s heart had broken, but he smiled. 

  
“Dream, you deserve the world.” 

  
And the night around them grew deep enough that it swallowed all the words they had to say. The stars spoke more than enough for the two of them, just as they had that night at the window. Just as they had, that night on the hill. 

  
And then, after some time, Dream had spoken. 

  
“I’m sorry for taking you with me earlier.” 

  
George blinked. 

  
“You mean, to the hollow?” 

  
Dream sighed. 

  
“Yeah. I didn’t mean to, I was just- I panicked, and I needed to get away. I wasn’t thinking, and I knew how rough it was, but I couldn’t focus enough to fix it.” 

  
“What do you mean?” 

  
“When I’m not thinking about where I’m going, I kind of just... splinter, when I land. We didn’t just hit the hollow, we hit everywhere else, too.” 

  
And Dream stopped when he caught the change in George’s expression. 

  
“What did you see?” 

  
“A... meteor. And a dragon. And yellow stone, that went on forever.” 

  
And Dream had pressed a hand to his forehead and dragged it down over the bridge of his nose. 

  
“God, I must have been- that’s even worse than I thought. And it was your first time, too.” 

  
“Dream, it really wasn’t that bad.”

  
And Dream sighed, and George saw some tension evaporate from his shoulders. 

  
“I probably took the worst of it. It’s never been that bad. I just- I was everywhere at once, and I felt like I was splitting in half. I must have passed out.”

  
Dream shook his head.

  
“There’s no way that would have ended well. It wasn’t on purpose, and I wasn’t focusing, and I- I still felt like I was falling apart. I was so...God, I could still feel his hands-” 

  
And Dream’s eyes unfocused slightly, his fingers finding the spot where Schlatt’s lips had touched his neck. 

  
Dream closed his eyes, and his shoulders shook, once. And his breaths began to speed up again.

  
But this time, George was there to pull Dream into his arms, holding him close to his chest until Dream relaxed against him.

  
Then, when Dream was once again breathing in sync with George, he pulled George a little closer and turned his gaze down to the spring. 

  
“I...always wanted to tell you more about who I was. Who I am. I was going to tell you, but I could never seem to find the right time. I was worried you wouldn’t look at me the same way afterwards.” 

  
George’s heart ached. He had to reassure him, had to say something, anything. Dream had to know that George was safe. 

  
“Dream, you can tell me anything. I-” 

  
And George realized he’d never be able to live with himself if he didn’t finish that sentence. 

  
“I’d love you just the same.” 

  
And Dream just looked at him for a bit, and when Dream’s eyes began to swim again he brought up a hand to cover them.   
  


Dream laughed weakly at himself.

  
And George knew in that moment that Dream had needed to hear him say it to believe it.   
  


And the night sky really did hold a power that George had never quite understood. It had pulled a kingdom from Dream’s heart, and a promise from George’s lips. Because somehow, the indigo sky had wanted them side by side. Somehow, the sparkling planets had wanted them living out the rest of their lives together. Somehow, the universe had decided that his place within it was right beside Dream’s. 

  
But George had always known.

  
Because, stars or no stars, he belonged with Dream. 

  
And Dream belonged with him.

  
And at some point, Dream laid down on the grass, still entangled with George. And George laid his head on Dream’s chest, and Dream held him close. And George closed his eyes and just breathed, together with Dream, in, and out, under the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment you’d all been waiting for! Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait. I’ve had the events of the final three chapters (5-7) in mind ever since I started writing the story’s beginning. There is another short chapter to finish off the story and it will probably be up in a day or two. I do apologize again for my estimates always being off. Honestly, all that extra time comes from perfecting the chapter until I feel good enough about it to publish it. If you have any particular thoughts about this chapter or any other, I really do love reading the comments and I refresh my page all the time to look for them. I’d like to give special thanks to all of you who have already left comments as it’s been a huge boost to my confidence as a writer!


	7. Emerald-Black Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George was lighter than he’d ever been. Some great weight of the past few years had evaporated in the time he’d spent at the hollow. Because George wasn’t resisting it anymore. He wasn’t resisting the force that pulled him to his best friend, cosmic and unbreakable and so, so, strong. Dream’s warmth had settled somewhere deep inside his soul, and he felt... safe, somehow, in a way he had never felt before. He was more comfortable on the earth, more sure of his steps. He was more comfortable in the universe, more sure of his place within it. He was more comfortable in his own little world with Dream, floating up among the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs for this chapter are Bishops Knife Trick by Fall Out Boy and Fire Alarm by Castlecomer.
> 
> Full playlist link on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLzwKBc4Yk4-1ufDUF8ZKwEj1_HEowzIAo
> 
> Note: for returning readers, there is a slight change made to something later this chapter inspired by a comment made by birbin. I loved the idea so much that I couldn’t resist, even though I generally try not to make noticeable edits to published chapters.

  
The hollow was beautiful at this time of night. Soft starlight dappled the grass they laid on and lit up the trees that kept them safe on either side. The spring was in motion, but its surface was crystal clear, deep blue and reflective, the night sky’s exact mirror. A pocket of the galaxy, here in the hollow. And the ribbon of stars at the cliff’s edge was for them, and them alone, drifting above their heads and swirling at their feet. 

  
When Dream finally stood up, he offered George his hand once again. 

  
George took it.

  
And Dream led him out of the hollow and up a narrow, wooded, cliffside path, the two of them winding their way through trees and soft shadows with their fingers laced. They climbed higher and higher, more and more light soaking the leaves overhead until he and Dream finally burst from the forest.

  
And the two of them were standing at the highest point in the kingdom. 

  
And George really couldn’t imagine being any closer to the stars.

  
The brilliant universe stretched in every direction, above them, and around them, and everywhere, faint galaxies and planets bright against the soft speckle of stars.

  
The Milky Way was a vibrant ribbon against the sky’s soft ink, connecting their kingdom to the Great Ocean across the cosmos. George felt like he could reach out and touch it if he tried, as if the swirling light and the distant lavender were as thick around them as the evening air. George had been stargazing with Dream, that night on the hill, and George remembered how the universe had seemed to draw them up into it, pulling them in and threading their souls together. But here, at the cliff’s edge, they really did stand among the stars, close enough to brush with his fingertips. 

  
Dream had said it was for a better look at the night sky. Dream had said it was for a better look at the kingdom they ruled, sprawling out below the cliff’s sharp edge. 

  
But in the end, the earth and the sky were quickly forgotten. Because Dream and George were somewhere between the two, in a universe where only they existed. Because the kingdom only knew the two of them, and it had never known them to drift above the atmosphere. Because the stars only knew the two of them, and it had never known them to live in the valley below. And so, it almost felt like he and Dream were all that was real, in the world. 

  
Maybe it was true. 

  
And kingdom forgotten, cliffside forgotten, planets and stars and night sky forgotten, his lips had found Dream’s again. 

  
And it was softer this time, slow, and deep, and gentle enough to melt him down into light, and warmth, and stardust. 

  
And Dream’s fingers were low on his hips, and something about that pressure, right there, kept a curl of something warm just below his spine. 

  
And George had a hand in the back of Dream’s hair and an arm around his neck, pulling him closer.  
  


And even when they finally pulled away, he and Dream couldn’t quite manage to let go of each other completely. Their foreheads still touched, and George held Dream’s face in his hands once again. 

  
And Dream was smiling.   
  


And George was smiling, too.

  
And Dream’s voice was almost soft enough to be a whisper, their lips almost close enough to brush again. 

  
”Do you think you’re ready to go back?”

  
George thought about it for a second. He’d be at Dream’s side, just the same, and the ballroom always seemed to hold a unique magic that had drawn George to it year after year. A magic that existed on no other night, and in no other place.

  
“Yes.”   
  


Dream nodded slowly, thinking it over.  
  


And then a slow smile spread across his face. 

  
“Can this be a do-over? I want you to have a good first time through.”

  
“Of course.”

  
And everything was different. 

  
And yet, somehow, everything was the same as it had always been. 

  
Because it was him and Dream, and it had always been him and Dream. 

  
But whatever connected them had always run a bit deeper, always rested a bit closer to George’s heart than he would have admitted to before tonight. 

  
Because George wanted to get too close to Dream. George had always wanted to get too close to Dream. 

  
And Dream had let him. Dream had let him, and him alone, push his boundaries. Dream had let him, and him alone, see Dream at his weakest, and he had trusted George with not one secret, but two. 

  
Because Dream loved him.  


  
And George loved him back.

  
And so, everything was different.

  
George paused for a second to look at his best friend, standing beside him on the cliff.

  
Dream really was ethereal like this, emerald-black eyes and emerald-black clothes, silver jewelry and silver stars. The green of the hollow, the black of the night. Dream belonged here, and it almost seemed as if the world wouldn’t exist without him.

  
In a way, it was true.

  
Because Sapnap was right. 

  
Dream was his world.

  
He caught Dream’s gaze. 

  
“Ready?” 

  
Dream took a deep breath and straightened his spine. 

  
“Ready.” 

  
And Dream took George’s hand. 

  
And Dream returned his mask to his face. 

  
George counted down slowly, every second echoing through the crisp air and down into the kingdom beneath their feet. When he hit zero, Dream’s fingers laced with his, and the world seemed to warp around where they stood, tilting sideways until the sky was the sea and the kingdom streets ran above their heads. They were standing above the infinite cosmos, an ocean scattered with stars. 

  
But George knew he was safe. Because Dream was his anchor, and he was Dream’s, and their linked hands kept them grounded as gravity faded and spacetime lost its meaning.

  
George was free falling, but Dream held him steady. The piercing noise had become a low hum in his bones, and this time no dragons and meteors flashed behind his eyes.

  
They emerged at the top of the ballroom steps. 

  
The faint static in his ears melted into the quiet sea of voices from the ballroom. Dream let go of his hand for just a second. And then, the sound of the castle bell echoed through the hall and Dream took his hand again.

  
And something was a bit odd about that, because no one had noticed them yet. No one was watching for them. No one was in the room where the bell rested, deep in the castle walls. 

  
And then George realized that he knew the castle inside and out. He had walked the halls a thousand times, explored every distant room, every narrow corridor. And he had never been in the bell room. He had never even seen its door.

  
Because the room where the bell rested had no door. 

  
Because Dream had rung the bell, this time, and every time before.

  
And George knew his thoughts were clear on his face, because Dream’s smile had grown bright, and just a bit mischievous. 

  
And George couldn’t see them, but he knew Dream’s eyes were sparkling. 

  
Dream leaned in close to his ear, voice just low enough, just quiet enough to draw heat up George’s neck. 

  
“If we ever want somewhere private...” 

  
And George made a mock noise of offense, but the thought had crossed his mind almost immediately. 

  
Dream, coming up to his desk while he worked, pressing his lips to George’s neck and pulling at his shirt. George giving in and letting Dream take him to the secluded room,letting Dream press him up against the wall, letting Dream pull him apart with his lips, his teeth, his tongue- 

  
His flush grew darker, and George tried his best to fight it off, because the murmuring in the room had grown louder at the sound of the bell, more heads turning towards the stairs.   


  
But Dream stepped forward, and the eyes of the ballroom were on him. And George could relax.

  
Dream raised a hand to the sky, drawing any stray eyes to the steps where he stood. 

  
He moved smoothly down the stairs, stopping about halfway down.

  
“I do apologize for the commotion.” 

  
And his sharp-toothed grin was back, with just a hint of the danger Schlatt held in his smile.

  
Schlatt. 

  
Oh God, he had forgotten about Schlatt.

  
“I had some business to attend to.”

  
But Dream was a step ahead, as always. 

  
Dream scanned the room. 

  
Then, he stopped, and his smile grew wider.   
  


“Actually, I don’t believe it’s quite finished.”

  
George followed the tilt of his head.

  
Schlatt, leaning against the wall of the ballroom. Sapnap stood at his left, his signature scimitars in either hand. Bad stood at his right, his eyes trained on Schlatt. A dark rune was etched into the ground beneath Schlatt’s feet, and George recognized it as a protective field. Schlatt couldn’t move, even if he wanted to.

  
And Dream descended down the rest of the stairs, his stride as graceful and as elegant as ever.

  
Still, there must have been something a little darker in Dream’s smile, because the crowd quickly parted for him as he walked. 

  
He caught Schlatt’s eye, his steps growing longer and his smile growing sharper as he picked up speed. 

  
And Dream had hit his stride again, and the air around him was positively crackling with energy, and strength, and raw, untamed, power.

  
While George couldn’t help but want to deal with Schlatt himself, he, more than anyone, knew exactly why that privilege belonged to Dream, and Dream alone. 

  
And what a privilege it was. 

  
Still, it was satisfying to watch, even from a few feet away. 

  
“Schlatt!” 

  
The murmuring around the room rapidly grew louder.   
  


Dream motioned to Bad and he broke his stare, the rune fading from the floor as Schlatt let out a sharp breath.

  
And then Dream moved straight up to Schlatt, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him against the wall.

  
Someone whooped in the background. George wasn’t looking, but he had no doubt that it was Sapnap. 

  
“I thought you’d like to know personally that threatening kingdom royalty constitutes an act of war.” 

  
Schlatt still managed a smirk, even up against the wall. 

  
“I didn’t threaten you. We just danced, if you recall.” 

  
But something in Schlatt’s gaze betrayed him. Because Schlatt knew something was different. 

  
Because, for all Dream’s confidence before, his mask and the secret it guarded had been sapping his strength. And Schlatt had seen it, and he had tugged at the loose threads it left behind until Dream came undone.

  
But Dream had built himself again in the hollow, and he no longer wore armor for Schlatt to slip through. He didn’t need it. And his mask was no longer a shield, but a rod for his lightning.

  
And something in Schlatt’s eyes was almost afraid. 

  
And Dream’s smile was growing more dangerous by the minute. 

  
Because Schlatt had, in fact, threatened someone. He had been enjoying himself a little too much, and he had left behind a loose thread. And Dream took it, and he pulled. 

  
“Not me.” 

  
And Dream turned his head towards the edge of the crowd closest to the stairs.

  
And Schlatt turned his head, too, something uncertain in his eyes.

  
“Him.”

  
And Schlatt locked eyes with George. 

  
And this time, Schlatt was afraid.

  
And George couldn’t help himself.  
  


He raised a finger to his lips.

  
And George wanted to remember the look on his face for the rest of his life.

  
Because Schlatt was trapped, and all three of them knew it. 

  
Because his collar was held by a star in a human shell. 

  
Some of Dream’s power was old, the skill and intuition that had always lived deep in his bones, deep in his blood. 

  
But some of Dream’s power was new, wild and unrestrained, spilling over the edges George had always known as his limits. And Schlatt saw it, too. 

  
And then he made a mistake. 

  
“What, your boytoy advisor?” 

  
And Dream’s mask had been keeping him human, in more ways than one. 

  
It was his final tether to the earth, because if Dream was any faster, any stronger, any more graceful, any more powerful, he couldn’t possibly be human.

  
But Dream’s fear had always tied him to the ground, and to the mask on his face.

  
The mask was still there. 

  
The tether was long gone.

  
Dream pulled Schlatt towards him, and the movement was too smooth, too fast to be quite human.

  
Because Dream wasn’t holding himself back, not anymore.

  
Dream shoved Schlatt back against the wall, and it seemed just a little too effortless for the strength it required. 

  
Because Dream wasn’t pretending, not anymore. 

  
And Dream leaned in close, and gave Schlatt his infamous sharp-toothed smile, which George realized had always been just a little too sharp to be human. 

  
Because Dream wasn’t quite human. Not anymore. 

  
And George could hear the crackle of the void from where he stood.

  
Because Dream’s words, and George would swear on it, were crackling with static, winding around Schlatt and suffocating him slowly. Pillars. Crystals. Hopelessness, like he had never felt. 

  
“That, my dear Schlatt, is the QUEEN.” 

  
And Schlatt had frozen. 

  
George had frozen, too. 

  
And then, his lips curved into a smile. 

  
And it was dangerous. 

  
Because Dream was right.  
  
  
Because Schlatt had just insulted the Queen of the most powerful nation on their side of the Great Ocean.

  
Because Schlatt had built himself a cage in his eagerness to pull Dream apart at the seams.

  
Schlatt deserved every ounce of the wide-eyed fear he could no longer disguise. 

  
And George knew Schlatt couldn’t look away. 

  
“And we...” 

  
Because Schlatt knew it, too.

  
Something wasn’t right. 

  
Because Dream picked up his mask and moved it to one side of his face.   
  


“...declare war.”

  
And a single Eye of Ender, emerald-black and slitted, stared back at Schlatt. 

  
And George had the pleasure of watching the color drain from Schlatt’s face. 

  
Disaster. 

  
And Dream’s smile was positively lethal. 

  
And his voice was low, and quiet. 

  
“I want to see white flags, outside of your base, by tomorrow, at dawn, or you are dead.” 

  
He released Schlatt’s collar and pulled his mask back over his face, his grin sharp and confident, just as it had always been.

  
Dream turned around, once again raising an arm to the sky. 

  
“General, escort him out, if you will.” 

  
Sapnap flipped a scimitar in one hand, a smile just as dangerous on his lips. 

  
“I think I will, your majesty.” 

  
And George’s eyes drifted to the king once again. 

  
Dream was glowing. 

  
Glowing with power, glowing with confidence, glowing with light. 

  
How did George ever live without him? 

  
And Dream was headed straight for him, a bright smile on his face. And George matched it with ease.

  
Because George remembered. 

  
Dream couldn’t quite live without him, either.

  
And when Dream reached him, he pulled George into his arms.

  
And George hadn’t been expecting it, especially in front of the ballroom crowd. 

  
Of course, he didn’t mind.

  
Dream let him go after a few seconds, and George knew he was unsuccessfully trying to keep a straight face. 

  
”Felt good, huh?”

  
And Dream gave up. 

  
”God, that felt good!” 

  
And they must have been slightly drunk on adrenaline, breaking out into laughter with a thousand eyes on them. 

  
Once again, George didn’t mind.

  
And Dream slung an arm across George’s shoulders, leading him back out to the dance floor.   


And it felt so normal, so natural, that George couldn’t help but joke.

  
“Queen, huh? Weren’t you supposed to get my permission first?”

  
Dream grinned. 

  
“Maybe. It’s still your choice, I just needed a title for the drama.”

  
George couldn’t help but laugh at that. Dream, ever the drama queen. 

  
The drama king. 

  
Because George was the Queen.

  
And he took a second to think about it.

  
But he hardly had to think about it at all. 

  
Because Dream had called him his Queen once before. His partner. He was never an advisor, because he was the Queen to Dream’s King.

  
He had always been the Queen to Dream’s King. 

  
And George grinned. 

  
Because it fit, perfectly.

  
And he couldn’t help but say it, because he wanted to hear it again.

  
“Queen George...” 

  
And Dream’s words were a tease, but his voice was just soft enough that George knew he’d thought about the title a great deal before saying it.   
  


“Like the sound?”

  
Because it wasn’t impulsiveness. It wasn’t guesswork.

  
It seemed like luck. But luck was a mask worn by intuition.

  
And George knew that Dream had always thought of him as his Queen.

  
“I think maybe I do.” 

  
And, for just a second, George could see it. 

  
Quiet, sun-kissed mornings, as he started every day in Dream’s arms. Battles for justice and free will, as they fought side by side with the newfound sureness in his steps and Dream’s power no longer bound to the earth they stood on. Late nights under the starry skies, quiet, and peaceful, and so, so, comfortable with Dream at his side. 

  
And a night on the hill, someday, voices quiet, and lips soft, as they offered themselves back up to the stars. 

  
And George smiled. 

  
And, at Dream’s cue, the music started up again. 

  
And Dream offered George his hand, just like before, just like always. Just like that night, all those years ago. 

  
And it felt like spring clearings, like sparks and light in a ballroom, like summer stars, and legends come true, and freckles, and emerald-black eyes. 

  
George took his hand. 

  
And the two of them began to dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the first chapter of this fic in my head one night when I couldn’t sleep. The next morning, I retyped it up into a doc on my phone and I spent the next three nights adding to it until I naturally reached the ending I had envisioned right before I fell asleep that first late night. Writing stories in my head is more or less the only way I can beat back my insomnia, and I’ve never published what I’ve written before. It means a lot to me that that first chapter I wrote at 3 am became a 22K word story that genuinely makes people happy. I’ve always had difficulty channeling my personal struggles into something positive to put back out into the world, and I think this time I’ve finally succeeded. Thank you all so much for following along and I’m so glad something I made has had a positive effect on this small corner of the world. <3


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